


Clusterfuck

by pretense, tick_tocked



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tick_tocked/pseuds/tick_tocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things that Mizuki is -- a tattoo artist, a gang leader, an irreplaceable friend. Things that Mizuki is not -- a shrink, a saint, a  love guru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 99 Problems

Mizuki is a reasonable man. One would expect the leader of the biggest Ribsteez group on the island to be an aggressive blood-thirsty overlord but instead there’s Mizuki. Cool and rational Mizuki. He only deals violence to those who are asking for it, otherwise, he can be found hard at work in his quaint tattoo parlor a little ways off the main road.

Black Needle is right at the heart of Dry Juice territory. The alleyways surrounding it are never empty of a gang member or two. Most people who venture into the shop have come to socialize, catch up and maybe rest a little before going back to their own business. In light of this, Mizuki has transformed the holding area up front into a mini bar of sorts. The atmosphere is easier with drinks going around.

Of course, as all nice feelings go, it doesn’t last very long.

“I’m telling you, I--!”

Koujaku stops in the middle of slurring his words. It’s followed by a heaving noise that gets Mizuki rushing out from behind the counter in a heartbeat.

“God damn it, Koujaku.”

Mizuki holds Benishigure’s leader up by the armpits, frogmarching him towards the bathroom where he can uphold his weekly worship of the porcelain god. Koujaku retches over the bowl, vomit making loud splashes as it becomes one with the toilet water. Mizuki dutifully holds Koujaku’s hair out of the way because the last time he forgot to do so the man threw a right tantrum about his precious hair; it was embarrassing for the both of them.

When the coughing and spitting finally dies down, Mizuki hits the flush and Koujaku’s ass hits the floor, exhausted. The smell of puke makes Mizuki want to retch but what comes out of his mouth is --

“You know what I hate more than the putrid smell of vomit?”

“Whuh?”

And Mizuki should pity him, really, but he is just so sick of this weekly phenomena. “People who won’t get a grip of their stupid love lives.”

Koujaku blinks his bleary eyes, a frown pulling at his lips. He raises and accusing finger, muttering, “For the last time, I am not in love! And if I was, it wouldn’t be with that snot-nosed brat!”

Mizuki can only stare in wonder as Koujaku repeats his soliloquy to a bathroom stall graffiti. He thinks about catching it on video for future blackmail material; maybe he can even sit (an obviously more sober) Koujaku down one day and watch him cringe at the things he’s more or less confessing.

“--With his stupid smirk! I’m gonna wipe that look off his face. Kiss it right the fuck off, yeah.”

“You broke his nose just last week,” Mizuki reminds his friend, amusement short-lived when he remembers the shattered windowpane. “Oi,” he nudges Koujaku’s shoulder. “Tell your boyfriend that my window still needs replacing. Seriously, I’m not paying for that. You two need a better outlet for your unresolved sexual tension. That, or find a different bar to brawl in.”

When Koujaku sags against the wall instead of giving an immediate answer, Mizuki sighs and bends down to pick him up. Supporting the older man’s weight by pulling his arm over his shoulder, Mizuki starts the slow trek back. Koujaku’s head lolls against his neck, his entire face is twisted shut, but at the very least his feet are moving.

“What?” Mizuki asks, thinking he heard some mumbling.

Koujaku sniffs, leaning more of his weight onto the shorter man. “Why isn’t he my boyfriend, Mizuki? Whyyy?”

* * *

“Hey, you!”

Mizuki looks to his left and right only to find that the other pedestrians have scattered. For good reason, too. A pack of bikers have stopped right before him, their aura as dark as their leather boots. He shifts the grocery bag in his arms. “Me?” The intensified glare tells him that the main man isn’t up for stupid questions.

Mink and his motorbike blocks the crossing lane; even seated, he just about reaches Mizuki’s height. “When was the last time you saw Gasmask?”

“Gasmask? You mean Clear?” Mizuki looks his fellow Rib leader in the eye, unimpressed with how he still refuses to call people by name even though its been nearly a year since their acquaintance. “He was at my bar the other night.”

“Hmph.” Mink narrows his eyes, gauging the truth in Mizuki’s words. When he finally seems satisfied, Mink revs up his engine, preparing to leave.

“He told me something though,” Mizuki adds before the motorbike can roar away. “Something about some big guy telling him to get lost.”

It’s not like he and Clear are especially close - at least not on the degree that he is with, say, Aoba or Koujaku - but he knows to appreciate an extra hand in his bar every now and then. Besides, Clear has only ever shown pure intentions to Mizuki and his friends. So when the gasmask-wearing man slumped into his shop instead of waltzing in like he usually does, Mizuki got concerned.

Mink levels him a death glare but Mizuki doesn’t even flinch. He’s not the appointed leader of Dry Juice without any reason; a bunch of ex-convicts has got nothing on his team. Seeing that the tattoo artist isn’t backing down, Mink purses his lips and lets out a sigh through his nose. “Tell him--” Mink pauses, looking at Mizuki once more as if ensuring his trustworthiness. “Tell him I’m not mad.”

Mizuki blinks then he raises his brows as if to ask ‘Really?’. “Why don’t you tell him that yourself? Do I look like a messenger to you?”

Mink’s frown deepens, the shadow over his eyes bordering on lethal. Behind him, his crew looks just about ready to pounce on Mizuki for daring to talk back like that. Even Mink’s decorated Allmate is glaring at Mizuki and to be honest, its the pink bird that feels more threatening.

“Clear has refused to take any of Mink’s messages,” Tori supplies, speaking in behalf of the Rib leader who must be feeling the awkwardness with the way he keeps tightening his grip on the bike’s handles.

“Fine,” Mizuki finally says when it seems like the other man wouldn’t move unless he somehow agrees to relay his non-apology. True enough, Mizuki is shortly left in the dust and smoke that belches from the pack of motorbikes speeding away.

He waves a hand to clear the pollutants, even stepping back to keep his groceries from being contaminated. Mizuki coughs. These are fresh produce, damn it.

* * *

“Oh man these are great!”

“You’re welcome! And remember the after-care regimen this time,” Mizuki calls after his customer.

“I will, I will,” the man laughs as he exits Black Needle, forearm dressed up to keep the newly-inked skin protected.

Mizuki shakes his head, wiping his hands on a towel as he retrieves a chilled beer can from the refrigerator. Another hard day of work is over and he is ready to get some dinner but before all that, he checks his coil. He knows he received a new message earlier but he couldn’t attend to it since he was busy.  Mizuki finds Aoba’s name on the Sender’s line and he quickly clicks on the message upon seeing the red exclamation tag highlighting its urgency. As he waits for the screen to load, he pops open the beer can’s tab and takes a swig only to spit it out a second later.

Aoba’s entire message is contained in two words -- HELP ME

Without wasting a thought, Mizuki hits the call button, heart already pounding inside his ribcage. His drink gets upturned in his haste but Mizuki can’t be bothered to worry about the mess right now. It’s already well into the night and he’s almost an hour late in reading the message. The generic ringtone reverberates loudly in his empty bar, the dark shadows at its corners almost feel like they’re about to deliver an unholy message. Unable to take the suspense, Mizuki bites back a curse and walks out from behind his bar counter. He has already sent his guys home but should the situation turn out to be dangerous he knows he can count on them to come and back him up. He only hopes that he isn’t too late.

The droning ring is cut and Mizuki freezes, one hand about to turn the knob on his front door.

“Mizuki?”

“Aoba!” Mizuki whirls around so fast he’s almost afraid that he broke a joint or two. He lifts his coil arm to switch to video chat, relief surging through his entire being at the sight of Aoba looking quite normal against the backdrop of his bedroom. “Oh thank god you’re alright… For a second there, I thought--”

“Alright?” Aoba cuts in, his eyes looking at something out of the coil screen’s range. There’s a definite panic in them when he turns back to Mizuki. “I am not alright! I am nowhere  near alright!”

The older man’s fight instincts kick back in. “Calm down, Aoba, tell me what happened.”

“It’s Ren.”

“Ren?” Mizuki is about to say that he doesn’t know shit about Allmates when it registers that Aoba is probably talking about the human Ren. It still winds him up sometimes to think of the cute little pom as this living breathing human being but that’s not the issue right now.

“What’s wrong with Ren? Is he hurt?”

“Oh gosh, I hope not...” Aoba’s brows crease with concern at the thought.

“So Ren is alright,” Mizuki surmises. “And you’re alright. Then who’s --?” His heart skips a beat. “It’s not Tae-san, is it?”

“What? No! Knock on wood, Mizuki!” Aoba cries, affronted, and Mizuki hastily raps his knuckles on the nearest wooden surface which happens to the his door.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Mizuki has no idea what’s going on right now. “But… Your message! You said you needed help! What was I supposed to think?!”

“I do! I need your help! Koujaku got all weird when I asked him!”

“Wha - Koujaku? What is this about?”

Aoba bites his bottom lip, suddenly looking very uncertain. He checks something outside the viewscreen’s range again, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “You promise not to laugh?”

“Of course,” Mizuki promises.” I’m not going to laugh at something serious.”

“Alright.” Aoba lets out a breath, locking gazes with Mizuki. “I need you tell me what it takes to top.”

The ready response of “I’ll help” dies in Mizuki’s throat, dissolving into thin air that leaves through his mouth that has dropped open in confusion.

“What?”

“I mean, I’ve obviously never done it before,” Aoba rushes. “And I don’t wanna hurt Ren or else he might not let me do it again, so--”

Mizuki waves his hand in front of him, signalling a halt in the conversation. “Wait a sec. Back up…” Aoba blinks at him. “What top? What are you going on about?”

“Sex,” Aoba answers simply. “I want to fuck Ren, if you want to be crude about it and I need your advice--”

Mizuki cuts off the call, not caring if it’s rude because the alternative will be getting too much information about Aoba’s private life that he can very well live the rest of his life not-knowing thank you.

Cold, frothing beer pools on the bar top and Mizuki forlornly watches it spread. Looks like he won't be getting any peace of mind tonight.


	2. Blame It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and encouraging comments!  
> Please enjoy this chapter~ we're going to have really bumpy ride ahead of us :D

“Why is it always me?” Mizuki complains to the amber liquid pouring into his glass. Finely aged whiskey runs down blocks of ice in streams, pooling at the bottom until the glass is half-full.

The bartender’s solemn expression doesn’t change, side-parted bangs leaving a cool blue eye to judge his patrons in silence. He merely turns away to attend to the next customer once he’s done with Mizuki’s order.

Mizuki’s lips twist sourly and he drinks up, inebriation doubling with the aroma that fills his nose. He usually goes out drinking with Koujaku and Aoba but lately he has become a bit bitter towards them. It’s probably just superficial, this animosity that’s brewing under his skin, but god is he tired of hearing them all yap about who they can’t have sex with. Mizuki isn’t getting laid every night but they don’t hear him complaining, so its definitely not Mizuki who is the problem here.

“What? Do I have love guru tattooed on my face?” he asks the unsuspecting drinker on his right.

The woman raises a pencilled eyebrow at him, painted lips pulled in a distasteful pout. Her friends draw her towards them, whispering something about staying away from drunks.

Annoyed, Mizuki turns to his other side, this time finding a young man with neon hair. “Why is everyone and their Allmates are egging me on this stupid love crap?”

The guy startles, spilling his cocktail on the bar top. He looks around himself with an extremely confused expression, not sure if he should know this blabbering stranger.

Encouraged by his one-man audience, Mizuki continues. ”I’m not even in a relationship for crying out loud! How should _I_ know about dealing with heartache or any of that shit?!”

See, this is why Mizuki doesn’t want his friends around when he decides to get unapologetically smashed. Much like the weepy drunk that is Koujaku, Mizuki has a tendency to short-circuit his brain-to-mouth filter, making him extremely loud and incredibly crass.

“Look, man, I don’t want trouble,” neon-guy says, holding both hands palms up in pacification. “I just came for a drink.” He proceeds to back away, taking his paper umbrella-topped glass with him.

Mizuki watches him go, wondering why it couldn’t be that easy for him. He knows why. It’s because these people are the closest thing he has to family and being a part of it means that he looks out for their well-being.

Still.

Ice clinks as Mizuki puts down his glass, emptied more times than he can count on both hands. He can smell the alcohol in his breath, warm and sticky as he hunches over the countertop, burying his head in the nest of his arms.

Images flash in between the static behind his eyelids. A crestfallen Ren awkwardly tailing after a disgruntled Aoba, the pair looking much like some biblical couple that’s been cast out of paradise. Koujaku sitting in a corner of a dusty old cell with Noiz sending the man death glares from the other corner, both bruised and sleepless while waiting for him to bail them out. Mink throwing open the door to Black Needle, marching in like he owned the place, while a crash resounds from out back where Clear had made his escape.

Breaking the night club’s thumping music, a midi beat resounds in Mizuki’s ears. He rises from the folds of his arms and finds a blinking light coming from his Coil. Huh. He’s almost certain he turned the device off before coming here, not wanting to be disrupted in his quest for insobriety.

The midi beat plays again and the blinking light beckons him with greater urgency. Mizuki opens the new mail with just the slightest bit of trepidation.

It’s…

An invitation?

* * *

“Now, Clear, you promised,” Mizuki says, smiling wide as he pushes the gasmasked man towards a booth near the back of his bar. “It’s bad to go back on promises.”

“Y-Yes, I know that Mizuki-san but--” Clear stops mid-sentence, planting his feet firmly on the linoleum floor.

Looking past the tense shoulders, Mizuki sees that the seats have already been occupied by his five favorite people in the world. He grins wider, poking Clear under the armpits to tickle out his resistance and get him moving.

“Yo~” Mizuki greets, to which Clear adds “Good evening!” in a voice that doesn’t carry his usual cheer.

Mink straightens up from where he has been lounging at the center of the booth, dark eyes fixed on the quasi-bartender with a yellow scarf.

Mizuki tightens his hold on Clear’s shoulder automatically, keeping him from bolting.

“You alright, Clear?” Aoba asks, concern dancing in his eyes much like the flashing lights that illuminates Mizuki’s bar. He is closest to them since he’s seated at the end of the curving couch that surrounds the booth’s circular table.

“Of course, master!” Clear nods. “I’m just confused as to why Mizuki-san insists on leading me here when I could be more useful helping at the bar.”

“That’s true,” Koujaku pitches in, looking at the busy crowd before settling on Mizuki. “This place is packed.”

“Oh, I wonder why,” comes Noiz sarcastic tone. “It’s not like there’s a big ass poster outside declaring Free Drink Friday.”

“Oi!” Koujaku rounds on the blond whose expression broadcasts exactly how much he’d rather not be here right now. Too bad for him, he owed Mizuki for bailing him out one too many times; you would think Noiz would have learned that he can’t bail himself out of prison by now but -- Whatever. Mizuki got him here and that’s what counts.

If Mink wasn’t seated in between Noiz and Koujaku, Mizuki is sure that they’d be at each other’s throats again so he thanks the gods for small miracles. The Scratch leader looks incredibly unimpressed, though, but Mizuki figures he’d just have to deal with it. They did agree that Mink would act civil for the entire evening in exchange for Mizuki delivering the elusive Clear to him. Reminded of that, Mizuki prods Clear to join the group, finally completing the circle of his victims… er, friends.

“Oh, lighten up, will you?” Mizuki laughs. He meets a myriad of responses from fearful to unimpressed.

The music blares louder, forcing Koujaku to raise his voice when he asks, “What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need to have a special occasion to want to spend time with you guys?” Mizuki beams, ignoring Noiz and Mink’s flat stares. “I’ll get some drinks to get you started. Stay put!” He turns heel and makes a beeline for his bar.

Aoba faces the rest of the table once Mizuki is out of sight. “What is up with him?”

“He’s been pretty excited in organizing this Free Drink Friday but he won’t tell me why,” Koujaku supplies, though its not much of an answer.

“Maybe there is a special occasion,” Ren suggests from his place at the other end of the couch. “And it just slipped our minds…”

“Well, it’s not his birthday,” Aoba states, the calendar on his coil pulled up for reference.

“Dry Juice’s founding anniversary isn’t until next month,” Koujaku adds.

“Ah. Mizuki-san has been looking troubled these past weeks but he suddenly got better just days ago,” Clear reveals, pointedly not-looking past Koujaku. “Maybe this is his way of celebrating?”

“Celebrating what, exactly?” Aoba’s question never gets an answer as their subject promptly appears before their booth.

“Whew!” Mizuki slides a tray of drinks on the table, smiling expectantly at his peers. “I hope you like this mix! I made it especially for tonight!”

“It’s glowing,” Noiz points out with a quirk of his brow. “Like a lava lamp.”

“Perfect mood-setter, right?” Mizuki replies, unfazed. “Go on then, there’s enough to go around.” He picks up one of the highball glasses, unique from the set with its toothpick of skewered cherries on the rim.

Ren obediently takes the glass nearest to him. Each one has thin lime wedges arranged like a fan over the lip. The rest of the table subsequently take their own glasses. Mink sniffs at his drink suspiciously but Mizuki only smiles.

(He is most certain that he had set the drinks right on his tray, corresponding with the arrangement of the guys in the booth. Personalizing each drink would have been easier but it might raise suspicions, especially if he polices who should take which glass. Mizuki trusts that they all picked the right one.)

“So what’s this called?” Koujaku asks, gaze moving from the glowing concoction in his hands to its maker. He holds the position of Mizuki’s official taste-tester on new drinks so it’s not exactly unusual for his fellow Rib leader to serve up unique (if at times questionable) alcoholic mixes.

“Haven’t thought up a name yet,” Mizuki admits. “But you guys tell me what you think!”

“If I drink this can I leave?” Noiz posits, picking a lime wedge from his glass and putting it to his mouth. His expression sours.

“Hey, wait a second.” Koujaku leans on the table to aim his glare. “That brat can’t have alcohol.”

Noiz frowns wider. “Says who?”

“The law, dumbass.”

“Hey now.” Mizuki cuts in between them with a pacifying expression. It’s almost cute how transparent Koujaku is to him; making sure that Noiz doesn’t get drunk in his awkwardly abrasive manner. “It’s a mocktail so don’t get your collective panties in a twist. I don’t want you guys getting drunk in this crowd in any case. So if there’s no more side comments...” He looks to Mink only to meet with a steely gaze. Well, at least the man is cooperating.

“Let’s have a toast!” Aoba suggests. Clear nods enthusiastically beside him.

They all raise their glasses to the center of the table, the drinks swirling with refractions of the pulsing strobe lights.

“Cheers!”


	3. Shots, Shots, Shots

Koujaku wakes up feeling like last night’s party is still raving inside his head and he throws an arm over his face, hoping to subdue it. His sheets feel a little different against his back and he shifts, trying to find his comfortable spot only to be stopped by something solid and warm against his back.

_Oh._

Did he bring home someone last night?

Koujaku racks the dark recesses of his foggy mind. He remembers trilling laughter, some girls fighting over who’s going to dance with him next, and a pair of judging green eyes cutting through from the bar. Koujaku remembers the most infuriating smirk and then there were hands, a reveal of messy blond hair streaked with neon flashes of light as some unknown body pulls off that distinct beanie.

All music fades then, as does all control Koujaku has over his limbs. He gets tunnel vision, vaguely remembers pushing a hulking body out of the way, until all he could see is green fire. It consumes him with only a pierced smirk for a warning.

Heartbeat picking up pace, Koujaku rakes a hand through his hair, stilling when his fingers meet air just past his nape.

Amber eyes snap open.

His vision is blurry and the frantic hammering in his chest doesn’t help. Finding himself to be at the edge of a bed much smaller than he recalls his own to be, Koujaku turns to the other side and --

“Shit.”

The whispered expletive empties Koujaku’s lungs. He’s frozen in a half-recline, unable to tear his eyes away from long blue hair and smooth shoulders.

Clear breathes in deep. He doesn’t remember going into sleep mode but he supposes that’s all right considering everything that had transpired the night before.

Something - no, Clear reminds himself giddily, someone moves beside him and he thinks of how nice it is to wake up with somebody. How nice would it be to wake up like this every day?

Out of habit, he touches a hand to his cheek and pauses. Warm skin. No mask.

That’s right he took it off last night. He won’t be hiding anymore. Not from his feelings. Not from himself. He remembers the intensity of the gaze that took him in, that took all of him in, the hand that cupped his face, held him close, cocooned him in safety and warmth.

Still smiling, he takes another breath and that’s when it occurs to him how different the air is. There’s something missing, something… sweet. And yet, he has this inkling of familiarity.

 _Weird_ , Clear thinks. _But not unpleasant. Definitely not._

It almost feels homey. He wonders if this could be his new home from now on.

Not wanting to delay the gratification of their first (official) morning after, Clear turns and opens his eyes.

He blinks.

There is a naked man beside him. But it’s not _his_ naked man.

Deafened by the pounding in his ears, Koujaku almost doesn’t hear the words that leave Aoba’s lips.

His childhood friend is right next to him, in bed, most likely naked, and holy shit he thought he was over this. Koujaku’s mind is screaming at him to run but he once again finds his appendages out of his control, locked in place by panic.

Then Aoba sits up, confusion taking over his once-serene expression.

Koujaku gapes, tries to form words on how this is definitely not -- What was that? Did Aoba just call him --

“Ren-san, are you feeling sick?”

* * *

Ren can smell cinnamon and it would have been nice if it didn’t feel so out of place. The air also feels colder than usual… but maybe Aoba just forgot to close the veranda again. Not that Ren would blame him. Things got pretty heated last night. He can’t even recall how they managed to get all the way home from Mizuki’s bar. Just that Aoba got extremely… handsy… which is usually the case when he gets a few drinks in him and there being an open bar last night should have warned Ren but…

Things were going pretty downhill between them, straining their relationship to the point that Ren might as well start using the guest bedroom. He never thought they would ever face that kind of problem and the solution isn’t as simple as it seems.

For the record, alcohol shouldn’t have been the solution either but Ren, being who he is, needed some liquid courage. And it worked.

Now that he’s more or less awake, Ren is eager to greet Aoba good morning, hoping that their mood from the previous night hadn’t worn off. A solid warmth is pressed close and over his right side which he takes as a good sign.

He opens his eyes slowly, still a little dizzy, and is greeted by a dull gray ceiling. The smell of cinnamon fills his nose and it’s kind of worrying that it hasn’t gone away now that he’s fully awake. Ren wonders if this is what a hangover does to a person. Perhaps he should ask Aoba --

The hand he reaches out to tap his lover goes still.

This is not their bed. These are not their sheets.

Ren cranes his head to look past the mass of white hair that’s tucked under his chin.

And this is definitely not Aoba.

Contrary to what one might expect, Noiz isn’t much of a heavy sleeper. It’s not like he can feel the most minute shift of the world around him, no. It’s more of an instinct to save his hide before things come to the worst.

And, boy, has he experienced the worst that this island has to offer. Fresh off the plane, miles away from home, Noiz’ welcome party consisted of burly gangmen who were not above taking advantage of clueless runaways. Suffice to say, Noiz didn’t stay clueless for long after that. It became easier to determine what their one-track minds were after, effortless to twist their attempts into his own personal gain. They’re all the same, those Ribsters. The last thing he expected was to get caught up with the likes of them.

Caught up doesn’t even begin to cover it.

If he squeezes his eyes shut and refuse to face the living world, Noiz can imagine those strong hands all over him still. Rough and possessive, marking every inch of his skin until he gets a better idea and ties them together with his belt. The haze of lust only served to burn the image of Koujaku’s face brighter in Noiz’ mind, disheveled and wanton, giving and giving until Noiz can’t take anymore.

With such vivid imagery in his head, Noiz isn’t surprised to wake up dry humping the sheets. He smirks to himself, wondering if the old man would be up for it. The guy did insist on him spending the night so he should take responsibility. Footfalls reach his ears and Noiz languidly pushes himself up to greet --

Mink.

Pacing circles at the center of the room in all his naked glory.

Noiz stares, throat locked up.

It’s... a little disappointing. He is almost sure it was Koujaku last night. Biting and scratching and whispering all those wicked promises in his ear. The mere memory of it shoots an electric jolt right down to his groin.

Well… Mink isn’t exactly bad to look at. So Noiz decides, Ah, fuck it, and proceeds to slip a hand under the sheets to take care of his business. But then he stops.

Something feels very wrong here.

Noiz throws off the blanket covering him.

He screams bloody murder.

Ren stops midstep, taken aback by the sudden shout. The words aren’t in a language he understands; or maybe mishearing things is another symptom of his hangover? He makes a mental note to avoid alcohol for life.

Waking up with Aoba nowhere in sight sent him into a worried frenzy. He extracted himself from the bed and went around trying to find his clothes so he could leave. What he found were very familiar articles of clothing - a scarf, a trenchcoat, padlocks, and a gasmask - but none of which were his own. If he wasn’t convinced by the white hair before, finding the gasmask confirmed the identity of the other man he’d been sharing a bed with. Said other man has apparently just woken up and chose to handle their situation in a less calm manner.

Ren takes cautious steps as he approaches the bed.

“Clear-san, are you all right?”

Noiz startles at the question, more so when he looks up to find Mink appearing so terribly worried. If his erection hadn’t already deflated, he’s pretty sure seeing that out-of-place expression on the Rib leader would’ve done it.

Something is definitely wrong in this situation. Mink using names (and addressing him by the wrong one) is first on that list. But before he can add anything more to that mental tabulation, a light touch grazes his shoulder.

\--!!!

_What just--_

Noiz jerks away, heartbeat picking up pace as he stares at the place Mink’s hand had been just a second ago. He doesn’t remember being so pale. Mink’s fingers, having been thrown off, hover ever so closely and Noiz registers a ghost sensation touching his skin. Only now does he realize how clammy the air is. Or maybe that’s just him, getting sensitive all of a sudden. Even the hair on his nape tickles and -- just hold on a hot minute.

Ren watches, helpless, as Clear smacks his hands to his face. Fingers grapple with hair and skin, pulling and pushing, and Ren doesn’t know what to make of it. He knows Clear to be especially conscious of his face - this is actually the first time that Ren sees him with without his gasmask - but this is a bit… extreme.

Unable to take any more of it, he grabs Clear’s hands and leans in close to hamper whatever it is that the other man might attempt.

(Clear’s eyes are pink, Ren can’t help but notice. It suits him, he thinks, but now isn’t the time for flowery compliments.)

“Please calm down,” he implores.

Noiz stalls, takes a deep breath and whoa - what is with that smell? Has Mink’s eyes always been gold? And since when did he start acting like he gives a damn? More importantly, Noiz can feel the vicegrip on his wrists and it hurts. Nothing is making sense. He makes to tug his hands free but Mink’s hold is secure.

“You need to calm down, Clear-san.”

“I’m not Clear!” Noiz retaliates and then he stops. If Mink sees him as Clear and he’s not Clear then the Mink who’s acting completely out of whack before him must be someone else? It’s crazy but it makes sense and that’s what Noiz needs.

“Who are you?”

Ren finds that to be an unusual question considering they’re less than a foot apart but if that’s what it takes to calm the hysterics then -- “It’s me. Ren.”

“Ren?”

"Y-Yes?" The hesitation causes his grip to slacken. How could Clear not recognize him? Did that gasmask have a filter that showed him differently? Or maybe they’re both suffering from hangovers?

Noiz slaps Mink's face to verify. (He kind of always wanted to do that.) His palm stings a bit. There are cricks and he hears a very subtle sound of machinery but he can’t tell where its coming from. Its probably not important now that he has confirmed his initial hypothesis. He shoves the thought back and mutters an apology to Ren.

Damn that teary-confused Mink-face. It’s something Noiz won’t ever be able to unsee. A boner-killer of the highest degree.

* * *

A knit forms in between Mink’s eyebrows. He tosses his head from one side to the other, unable to escape the permeating smell of incense and cherry blossoms. Consciousness dawns but Mink can’t quite get the grasp of it. Blinking, he finds it odd that his arms are empty when he very clearly remembers Clear snuggling close last night and…

Why does it feel like he has nothing in his arms right now? This isn’t right.

In fact, Mink gets the odd notion that he can’t quite _feel_ anything right.

His pillow reveals itself to be a lean, tattooed arm that doubles as a seatbelt of sorts, keeping him in place. Faintly, he feels a rhythmic motion behind him, matching his own breathing pattern but it doesn’t last long.

Panic sets in, doubling when whoever it is behind him pulls him closer, (what he assumes to be a) nose nuzzling into his hair and -- that is the last straw.

Mink frees himself from this stranger’s hold, putting as much distance as he can between them. He scrambles out of the covers, overestimating his placement and ending up on the floor.

A dull ache rattles his brain and Mink doesn’t quite understand. It doesn’t feel like he hit the floor, but he definitely lost his balance there. Heck, he’s staring up at the ceiling right now but… everything feels dull.

Aoba wakes up to the sound of a very painful crash.

_Who - What - When - Ren?? Was that Ren?!_

Getting tangled in the sheets as he sits up, Aoba’s rush comes to a standstill when he gets a good look at his surroundings. He doesn’t remember his bed being so big. Or so red. More importantly, where the heck is Ren?

He hears a low, gruff “Where the heck am I?” and he sees a pair of feet sticking out from the side.

That doesn’t sound like Ren but Aoba’s worry (and lack of self-preservation skills) prompt him to crawl over. Aoba swallows the lump in his throat before peeking over the edge to find…

A naked Noiz.

Pierced dick and all. Sprawled on the ground with his feet comically sticking up. Looking like the angriest motherfucker he has ever seen. Aoba opens his mouth to ask if he’s okay but Noiz beats him to it.

“Oi, Red. What the hell did you do to me?”

Aoba takes on the aforementioned color, unable to look away. He’s not supposed to stare at anyone else's naked body since he and Ren are seeing each other exclusively but… It’s right there. And it’s… weirdly impressive, a sly voice from his subconscious whispers.

Pointedly steering his thoughts away from uncharted territory, Aoba wonders when Noiz started sounding so gruff and pissed off. Is it puberty? Wait a second. Did he just call him _Red_?

"Who the heck are you calling Red?” Aoba demands, holding onto the edge of the mattress so he can glare down at the blond properly. “It's me, Aoba."

He blinks.

...Aaand that is not his voice.

He looks down at the bed, the sheets, the floor. He looks around the room.

This is not his room.

He stares at his hands that are curled into silk red sheets. Aoba follows them (brows raising at the bands of ink around his arm) until he’s staring at his own naked self, except…

These are not his pecs.

…

Holy shit he has never had pecs like these before. Goddamn. Are they really this solid?

In the meantime, Mink pushes himself upright. He tries to determine when everything went numb. Bringing up his hands, he is surprised to find a pair of studs at the pinch of skin between his thumb and index finger. He doesn’t remember getting pierced. And he’s pretty sure he’s not this scrawny. Looking at the rest of his body, Mink feels his heart jump to his throat.

(At least he can still feel that, is the sardonic thought that crosses his otherwise shell-shocked mind.)

WHAT IN THE HIGH HEAVENS ARE THOSE STUDS DOING ON HIS DICK?! What the hell. That’s supposed to hurt. Those are metal. Seriously, what --

With no other suspect for his predicament, Mink gets to his feet and rounds on Red. That guy must seriously be out of his mind if he’s calling himself “Aoba”. The fact that he’s currently groping his tattooed chest while “ooh”-ing and “ahh”-ing only verifies that insanity peg.

Without so much as a warning, Mink snatches Red’s attention, grabbing his hair and using it as leverage to make the younger man face him.

“What the hell, Noiz?!” Aoba snarls. The sensation in his hair has gradually faded to nothing but having them yanked up like that still hurts.

Mink’s mind blanks out.

Noiz? What the hell is a Noiz? Did he mean the maniac?

Impossible. Well, not really. The maniac had piercings, which would explain the studs on, well, his… erm, parts... but -- no. No. That would NOT explain --

Suspicious, Mink drags Red out of bed, heading for the full body mirror that’s propped up against the far wall. Over the annoying whines of “ow, ow, my hair, damn it”, he swears that there is definitely going to be hell to pay when he finds out what Red did to him.

Hauling the other man into place with a greater sense of purpose, Mink parks them both in front of the mirror.

  
Beni starts upon hearing twin yells that shake the entire room. He looks for their source, finding Koujaku and Noiz by the mirror staring alternately at their reflections and each other. And screaming. Lots of screaming. The Allmate rolls his eyes before turning his tail on the pair to mute his volume and resume sleeping. That’s what Koujaku gets for not listening to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To summarize, here's the who's-who:  
> Koujaku is in Ren's body, Clear is in Aoba, Ren in Mink, Noiz in Clear, Mink in Noiz, and Aoba in Koujaku.  
> That sounded a lot more perverted than I intended.
> 
> Fun facts about their sleeping positions~  
> RenAo - Liberty; MinKuri - The Romantic ; KouNoi - Spooning  
> Read more on it ([here](http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2015/02/11/couples-sleeping-positions-and-what-they-mean_n_6659278.html))
> 
> Again, thank you very much for tuning in to the story~ We'll see you next week :)


	4. Mixed and Matched

The Seragaki household is quiet as it always is on Saturday mornings. It is, however, the deceptive type of calm. It’s the eye of a hurricane with the real storm circling the edges, waiting to roll in and wreak its special brand of havoc.

Clear dutifully folds the blankets and fluffs up the pillows on Aoba’s bed. He doesn’t really understand how he ended up in his master’s room and body but the least he could do is be mindful of his surroundings. Speaking of…

Ren -- rather, Koujaku (in Ren’s body) still hasn’t moved from the corner. The man is curled up in a fetal position, head buried in the crossed arms over his knees. Sniffling sounds radiate from his corner and Clear approaches him hesitantly.

“Don’t feel bad, Koujaku-san,” Clear says, placating. “We’re going to be all right.”

Koujaku just squeezes his eyes shut, flinching when hands softly land on his back. When Clear starts humming, it’s Aoba’s voice that reaches his ears and it just… it hurts. The soothing backrub that’s being ministrated is nowhere near effective.

As if sensing this, Clear changes tactics. He places his hand over the tense fingers digging into Ren’s bicep.

“What are you doing?” Koujaku manages to ask inspite of his clogged and dripping nose.

“Holding hands is a form of reassurance, yes?” Clear smiles as he successfully pries one hand loose and slips his own beside it.

“I’m okay, Clear, seriously.” Koujaku peeks from beneath navy bangs, eyes a little red. Aoba’s smiling face greets him and his heart clenches painfully. “Just… stay away from me.”

It pains Koujaku even more to say those words to Aoba’s face but… it has to be done.

Last night was supposed to _fix_ everything, a leap away from all that has been holding him back. The start of something new after the harrowing journey to end all uncertainties but now he’s wrecked up all over again.

“I’m not doing that, Koujaku-san,” Clear maintains, squeezing Ren’s hand for emphasis. “Just let out all your tears and I’ll be right here when you get back to your usual self.”

Knowing that it’s hopeless to dissuade him, Koujaku allows himself to sink into the consolation.

 

Five minutes later, Koujaku is pulling on Ren’s shirt and _god damn it smells of Aoba_. Clear has wisely chosen to put on clothes as well and they sit on the floor, fully-dressed, trying to come up with a plan.

“If you’re Clear in Aoba’s body and I’m in Ren’s body, then it makes sense that other people have switched too, right?” Koujaku posits, hands linked together all-businesslike.

“Of course!”

“But we don’t know how many people switched,” Koujaku continues. “Was it just us, or was it everyone in Mizuki’s bar?”

“It would be a disaster if everyone got switched around,” worries Clear.

“Well, we can’t jump to conclusions so we need to make sure that our group is accounted for first.” Koujaku nods to himself. “We should find the others.”

“Right,” Clear agrees, instantly getting to his feet.

Hearing the rustle of clothes and footsteps, Koujaku looks up and his heart plummets. He has no time to ask why Clear is heading towards the open veranda with such a determined look on his face.

Clear braces his hands on the railing, raising one foot to do the same.

“O-Oi! DON’T JUMP, YOU IDIOT--!!”

Koujaku barely catches the back of Aoba's signature jacket... being unused to Ren's body, however, Koujaku uses inadequate force and ends up tipping backwards. Clear is helplessly pulled along, unable to maintain any sort of balance. They crash to the floor, Clear landing on top of Koujaku, flailing limbs toppling over a stack of magazines.

As the scuffle settles, an angry voice booms from outside their door. “Keep it down in there! It’s too early!”

Clear and Koujaku freeze, their eyes being the only things to move as they share an understanding -- _Granny Tae_.

“Sorry!” they shout in unison, dreading the instant that Aoba’s grandmother would barge in and give them a whacking but the moment passes. Footsteps move away from the door with nothing more than muffled grumbles. They sigh in relief.

“What were you trying to do?” Koujaku hisses, pushing Clear off of him. “Give Aoba a fractured leg or something?”

Hazel eyes so familiar to Koujaku immediately water up. “I-I’m sorry, Koujaku-san! I forgot myself for a moment! I thought we were going to start looking for the others so--”

Ruffling his hair in an effort to do away with his irritation - how he misses his long locks all of a sudden - Koujaku sits back up to face Clear. “Don’t cry, come on…” Even now he absolutely cannot stand seeing Aoba tear up for whatever reason. “I’m not angry just… This situation isn’t easy to handle, you know…”

Reigning in his emotions, Clear sits up as well, wiping away the tears beading at the corners of his eyes. He gives Koujaku a reassuring (if a bit watery) smile.

Koujaku clears his throat and restarts with a gentler tone. “We’re going to start looking the normal way, all right?”

“Normal way. Got it!”

* * *

Noiz finds himself infinitely thankful for Clear’s extensive get up. With boots, pants, a shirt, labcoat, and gloves, Noiz is sufficiently covered up that it almost mimics the disassociation that he is used to. He should be glad to experience tactile sensations like this, to finally know warm from cold, smooth from rough, but he can’t help thinking about whoever it is that got stuck in the cage that is his body.

Obviously, since he’s walking, talking, and breathing in Clear’s person - at this Noiz has to pause, acknowledge that the humming of machinery he’s heard earlier isn’t going away and isn’t coming from an outside source; he knows the sound of technology more intimately than any human voice after all - then some poor soul should be occupying the body he’d left behind. Which is why he and Ren need to hurry out of… wherever this is.

Looking around the room, Noiz curses his lack of Pseudo Rabbits to make the reconnaissance easier. No matter, he can very well gather necessary information on his own while Ren sorts out the schematics of Mink’s clothes.

Given the temperature and lack of windows, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that they’re underground. The few personal artifacts on the bedside table point to Mink being the owner of their room. On the floor lay the final piece of the puzzle, a faded tag art reading “Scratch.”

Okay. Scratch HQ it is. Noiz somewhat remembers the place being around the Northern District. Far from the city center where he hopes to meet up with… well. He’s not actually sure who else is having this out-of-body experience but he has seven victims in mind; him and Ren, included.

“Are you done?” Noiz asks, turning to Ren who has just finished lacing up Mink’s boots.

Ren meets his look with darkened eyes - Noiz had helped him put on a pair of contacts they found on the bedside table and assumed to be necessary. He nods in the affirmative and together they stand before the imposing metal door -- their only exit from the room.

“Right then…” Noiz’ next words become muffled as he slips on Clear’s signature mask. “Let’s head out. We need to regroup.”

A stale breeze blows in and Noiz tenses at the sight of gangsters littering the halls right outside their door. Shit. Three Scratch members notice them - Noiz can’t help but feel that they’re looking at him specifically - the scowls on their faces sliding into conniving smirks.

“Good morning!” A cheerful greeting comes from the side.

The men take on bewildered looks, turning to stare at Mink like he’d sprouted fairy wings. Noiz, though thankful that their attention is elsewhere, kind of wants to bash his head in right then. He grabs Ren by the arm and drags him back into the bedroom, metal door clanging shut behind them.

 

“Are you out of your mind?!” Noiz screeches, backing Ren against the door.

Mink’s expression crumbles, akin to a child getting scolded and not knowing what they did wrong.

“What did you greet them good morning for?”

“...I thought it was polite.”

Seething, Noiz could almost swear the eyepieces of Clear’s gasmask are fogging up due to his anger that’s just about ready to boil over. “Mink is not polite! Have you seen him?”

Hearing that tone, Ren deflates, head drooping between his shoulders in shame.

Noiz gets the notion that he just kicked a puppy when Ren looks at him like that. “Arghh,” he growls, turning away and kicking a nearby trashcan. The receptacle launches into air, scattering cigar ash and other garbage across the floor before lodging into the opposite wall. Noiz stares at Clear’s foot, following the trail of waste unto their supposed container that would probably pass for an art installation by now.

Ren’s mouth hangs open but he quickly shuts it when Noiz faces him once more. “I’m sorry, Noiz,” Ren apologizes, self-deprecating tone filling the entire room. “I know that it is crucial for us to get out of here. Maybe we should come up with a plan?”

Breathing deep to calm himself, Noiz makes a mental note to be more careful. Clear’s strength is not to be underestimated. “Okay. You want a plan? Let’s start with leaving this place without those gangsters clueing in that we’re not who they think we are.” He walks over until they’re toe to toe, forcing Ren to straighten up. “You need to look and act like the biggest and baddest ex-convict on the planet.”

Ren blinks, unsure. “...I don’t think that’s possible. I haven’t committed a single felony as far as I can remember.”

Noiz grabs Ren by the lapels of his coat. Danger glints on the glass eyepiece of his gasmask. Scratch that - Clear’s strength is something to be utilized.

“I-It has only been a year since I acquired a human body,” Ren hastens to explain. “But even before that, it was in my programming to avoid altercations at all costs.”

“Do you _want_ us to stay locked in here forever?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then get your act together,” Noiz presses. “Pretend that you’re constipated or something!”

“Constipated,” Ren repeats. The way his eyes light up denotes a sudden understanding. “I know that.”

“You do?”

Ren nods. It had been a long weekend without Tae that concluded in Aoba swearing off improvised dinner recipes for life. “It’s kind of like…” Digging up the gustatory memory, he proceeds to channel his past constipation episode with a twist of his mouth and a furrow between his brows.

Stepping back to get a better view, Noiz scrutinizes the look that Ren is projecting on Mink’s face. “Close enough. All right. Pretend you’re having bowel problems until we find our way out of here. Don’t talk to anyone. Make dismissive grunting noises if you have to.”

“Roger.” Ren steps away from the door so they can start anew, but before he turns the handle, a question pops into his head. “Ah. Noiz?”

“What is it?”

“You need to act like Clear, too.”

“I know that,” Noiz replies sourly.

 

“Hey, Clear!”

“Hello~”

“Boss.” The bald gangster by the corner nods when they pass him.

Ren merely grunts in reply.

Planting a meaty hand on his hip, the guy inclines his head at Clear. “You joining the raid this time?”

In spite of himself, Noiz’ feet stop moving. The what?!

Noticing his companion’s halt, Ren subtly nudges Noiz forward with tug on his lab coat.

Jolted, Noiz quickly gets moving. “Ahm~ I don’t think so~”

“That’s what you always say!” Bald-guy chuckles. “Next time, then. See you around!”

That guy has to be the tenth person to act familiar with Clear and Noiz can only fake being so exuberant for so long. He expected to be ignored or even side-eyed at best but instead he got what is probably  the complete opposite of the walk of shame. Sure, Clear is a cheerful kid but to have the likes of _those guys_ be all chummy with him? It’s pretty mind-boggling.

No matter, the exit is right ahead. Bright sunlight streams in, beckoning them to freedom.

* * *

Aoba pulls at his hair - Koujaku’s hair, and wow it’s so soft. He should have expected that given the man’s profession but this is supposed to be bed hair and it’s so unfairly soft. That finding only adds to his agitation. Walking back to the bed, Aoba’s mind is running a mile a minute, muttering “I have to leave. Go back home. I need to check up on Ren. I have to--”

“Calm down.”

The stern voice stops Aoba in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder to find Noiz - no, Mink, _that’s Mink_ , he reminds himself - walking up to him. He tries not to get distracted by the scratches and lovebites but they’re kind of everywhere. Red and angry but not as angry as the expression on Noiz’ face that Aoba remembers seeing the first time when the then-anonymous Rhymer broke into his bedroom.

“How can I calm down?” Aoba retaliates. “I’m having an out of body experience!”

“So am I,” Mink glares. “But you don’t see me running around like a headless chicken.”

Unable to come up with a sharper retort, Aoba crosses his arms and glares back. “Well we have to do something about this.”

“Obviously.” Mink scoffs, his temperament worsened by the fact that he has to _look up_ at Aoba when he’s talking to him. Not only is the Maniac’s body defective, he is also unforgivably short. “We need to retrace our steps. Figure out where things went wrong.”

“We were all at Black Needle last night,” Aoba remembers. “We had drinks. I think Koujaku went dancing. There were more drinks. Strobe lights. I didn’t keep track of everyone. Then, Ren and I went home…” Memories of what followed sends a hot rush down his body and Aoba promptly shuts up. “Y-You don’t think…”

“What? Spill it out.”

“The others… Ren and… Koujaku and Noiz…” Aoba’s worry increases with each name he counts off.

“And Clear,” Mink adds, though its more of a whisper to himself.

The crossed arms drop as Aoba voices his suspicion, “What if they’re having the same problem? What if someone else is controlling our bodies like, well, like this!” He gestures between them and gets the unwelcome reminder of their nudity. Aoba’s face drains of color.

“That would make sense,” Mink agrees, pointedly looking away. “Let’s get dressed then we can start searching.”

 

Getting dressed is easier said than done.

Despite being friends with Koujaku for years, Aoba has rarely been to his bedroom. They mostly hung out at the living room or had dinner at the kitchen. He finds the right closet after a couple of tries, not wanting to wear the dirtied clothes off the floor.

Mink has gathered a bunch of clothes in his arms but he finds it difficult to reconstruct the order of Noiz’ clothing. There are too many layers for it to be anything but impractical in the current weather. What’s more… Mink inspects Noiz’ shirt, frowning when he finds more than a couple of buttons missing. The teeth marks on Noiz’ chest tell the whole story and Mink can only shake his head. Typical.

On the other side of the room, Aoba is trying very hard not to see or touch his childhood friend’s privates. It’s all kinds of awkward but he manages to get his pants in order anyway. He startles when a voice comes up directly behind him.

“Oi.”

“W-What?”

Mink holds up a ruined shirt. He has Noiz clothed in boxers and a long-sleeved undershirt but not much else. “I can’t go out in these,” he says pointedly.

Aoba purses his lips in thought. “I can see that....” He looks to Koujaku’s wardrobe, pondering. “Well… I guess Koujaku wouldn’t mind lending you some stuff.”

“Considering Red probably did this,” Mink mutters, dropping Noiz’ clothes on the floor. “He shouldn’t complain that I use his clothes for the mean time.”

Puffing up his cheeks, Aoba gets ready to defend his long-time friend. “Hey, Koujaku isn’t--”

“Aoba.” Mink’s no-nonsense stare prevents the other man from completing his statement. “You can’t be that dense.”

When Mink proceeds to ignore him in his search for something wearable, Aoba’s gaze drifts back to the bed. It’s not that he’s in denial. Waking up in Koujaku’s body with an equally naked Noiz in his bed paints a spectacularly clear picture of what’s going on between those two. He doesn’t really have an issue with who Koujaku hooks up with but… these two… they’re his friends, right? He should know about this kind of stuff. Every time he sees them, they’re always fighting and Aoba thinks that they’re probably doing that to cover up the truth.

But why? Did they not feel like they could trust Aoba?

Aoba wouldn’t change anything about the way he treats them. They should know that. Not wanting to dwell in pessimism, Aoba reaches a conclusion. If they’re having doubts about his views on the matter then he’ll just have to show them the real score.

“Hey Mink… You sure you’re not going to wear that shirt?”


	5. Granny Knows Best... Or Not

“And where do you two think you’re going?”

Koujaku feels his heart leap to his throat.

Clear’s smile is bordering on too-big when he pops his head into the kitchen. “Tae-san -- I mean, Granny! Kou -- Ren and I were just heading out.”

“Not on empty stomachs you aren’t,” says Tae, leaving no room for argument. She turns her back on them, attending to the eggs cooking on the stove.

Looking at each other, Koujaku and Clear conclude that it’ll be in their best interest to behave. For Aoba and Ren’s sake, as well.

“Do you need help?” Koujaku asks, stepping into the familiar kitchen.

Tae pauses, eyeing Ren. Over at the kitchen counter, golden brown toast pops out of their toaster with a ping. “Set the table.”

Clear dutifully arranges the plates and utensils. When the tea comes to a boil, Koujaku brings it over and pours them a cup each. Pretty soon, all is set for breakfast with Tae taking her seat at the head of the table, Koujaku on her left, Clear on her right.

“Thank you for the meal.”

Breakfast becomes a quiet affair and Tae suspects a hangover. She would tell Aoba off about it - more so for being a bad influence on Ren - but these are lessons people need to learn on their own so Tae holds her tongue and adds more vegetables to her morning omelet.

Still, there’s something odd about her grandson. Well. Grandchildren now, technically.

For one thing, Aoba is staring a little too intently into his tea. He might just be breathing in the warm aroma but no - from the way he’s holding himself still and the intense focus he’s displaying, Tae could be convinced that Aoba is attempting to read the tea leaves. Except, of course, for the fact that his cup is still very much full.

Ren, on the other hand, hasn’t touched his food. He’s prodding at a slice of egg white omelet dejectedly.

Now Tae isn’t blind to what’s happening behind close doors. This is her house, after all. But from all the enthusiastic giggling that these two failed to muffle last night, Tae had the impression that they had reinvigorated the dying sparks of romance or whatever it is that kids these days believed in. Apparently not. Well then. Tae has never been a person of inaction.

“Is there something wrong with my cooking?” Tae asks at large.

Aoba’s head jerks up and so does Ren’s. They make eye contact before dissolving into babbles of  
“Of course not, Granny!”  
“Your food is delicious as always.”  
“I just think that my stomach can’t handle much food right now.”  
“I guess I’m still a little sleepy.”

“Well, you’re not the only one who didn’t get enough sleep,” Tae snorts dismissively. “Pretty loud, the both of you. Coming home drunk and all.”

Koujaku is mortified. This is not the kind of discussion he ever wants to have with Tae. Especially over breakfast.

_...Eh?_

Ren’s face is turning into a very unflattering shade of red. Maybe he should say something?

“Well, Mizuki-san had an open bar last night, Granny,” Clear cheerfully comments. “As for the racket, it must have been the alleycats!”

Both Tae and Koujaku are staring at him now, a little bewildered. Clear is encouraged to continue.

“See, some of them like to climb roofs and say meeeoowww like that! I think it’s a mating call--”

A piece of toast is shoved into his mouth.

Ren’s eyes are begging him not to say another word.

“You really need to eat properly, _Aoba_ ,” Koujaku tensely implores. He leaves the golden brown slice hanging from Aoba’s mouth as he sits back. “We have a busy day ahead.”

Dumbfounded, Clear nods weakly.

Koujaku turns to Tae, hoping to salvage the situation. “Mizuki called us to help clean up his bar,” he lies through his teeth. Though it’s not entirely untrue considering the clean-up ritual is a common occurrence in the past, when Mizuki used to host big drinking parties for his Rib team. “The party last night left a lot of garbage so we’re going to help out.”

Tae sighs.

So much for trying. If these boys aren’t going to come clean, then fine. They’re big enough to sort troubles on their own.

Following breakfast, Tae leaves for an appointment with her acquaintance three blocks over.

With the dishes cleaned and drying, Koujaku and Clear decide that they should probably make their blatant lie as small of a deception as possible. Since nobody else seems to be taking charge, Clear takes it upon himself to send a mass email to their friends using Aoba’s Coil since Ren doesn’t have one of his own.

“I should let Mink-san know that there’s trouble,” Clear muses as he adds the contact to the receiver’s line. Looking up at Ren, he grins. “I should send one to you as well, Koujaku-san. For whoever it is that was put in your place.”

Koujaku freezes in the middle of toeing in Ren’s shoes. Whoever is in his place…?

His mind brings up the image of his bedroom awash with shadows and moonlight. The deep red sheets look almost purple in the dim light. A lithe figure lounges in their midst, all pale skin and luminescent green eyes.

There must be a new record for the number of times Koujaku’s insides have turned into a soul sucking void in the course of one morning. And it’s not even past nine yet.

“Er, Clear? Would you mind looping Noiz in the email as well?” Koujaku asks, trying and failing to act casual about it. _That brat is probably going to kill him._

“You think Noiz-san might’ve gotten switched, too?” Clear asks with a tilt of his head.

“I hope not…” Koujaku sweats, averting his eyes. “But… you know… just to be sure.”

Clear shrugs. “Okay.”

* * *

Tori is unimpressed, watching the two impostors work around Mink’s motorbike for about the hundredth time.

“I’m telling you, this is the fastest way to get back to the city!” A very irritated man in Clear’s get-up shouts.

“And I’m telling _you_ that it’s _not_ working,” counters the other man who wears Mink’s face and clothes but is as far as possible from the man that Tori knows.

“Just step on it.”

“Step on _what_? You have to give me clearer instructions.”

“How should I know? I never learned how to drive!”

“Neither have I!”

Not-Mink gets off the vehicle, irate. “It’s no use,” he declares. “We have to go by foot.”

Bristling, “Clear” hops off his seat to stand before the wannabe Scratch leader. “Do you have any idea how far Black Needle is from this dump?”

“Well, we can’t stall any longer,” “Mink” takes on an aggressive stance. Tori has seen Mink get angry millions of times so it’s easy to see how this one is not quite the same. “Aoba’s email said to meet as soon as possible.”

“I am aware of that. Which is why this stupid lump of metal is vital,” the fake Clear points at the motorbike behind him for emphasis. “It’ll take us there as. soon. as--” He stops, gaze narrowing as he finally realizes that they’re not alone.

Confused by the halted tirade, “Mink” spares a glance over to what it is that had distracted the other man. “It’s Tori,” he says, almost sounding relieved.

The Allmate narrows it’s single visible eye at the pair, suspicious.

“Hey, you,” not-Clear shouts, walking up to where the cockatoo is perched on the remains of a building pillar. “Tell us how to get this motorbike started.”

Balancing the cigar tucked into his beak, Tori responds with a scathing, “I refuse.”

“Why not?”

“Because I will not stand for being an accessory to whatever crime you hoodlums intend to commit.”

“H-Hoodlums?” Ren doesn’t know if he should be offended since he’s trying to emulate one and all. He defers to Noiz but the guy isn’t paying him any attention.

“But you do know how to get this ride working,” Noiz says, taking a step forward with every word uttered.

Tori puffs out his chest, sensing the imminent threat. “And what if I do?”

If not for the gasmask, a most uncharacteristically evil smirk would’ve been showing on Clear’s face. As it is, Noiz’ intentions are sufficiently delivered by his sudden jump and the outstretched hands aiming for the cockatoo.

A brief rustle of feathers and Tori takes flight, leaving Noiz grasping at thin air.

“Get back here!”

“What have you done with Mink and Clear?” Tori demands.

“I didn’t do anything!” Noiz growls, taking another leap. He miscalculates Clear’s jumping power and overshoots, missing his target by a clean three feet. His landing is smooth nonetheless, this new body more coordinated and bruise-resistant than he’d thought possible, and he gets back to trying to catch Tori again.

Pink and white blurs dart around in a game of cat and mouse. Ren watches the chase, getting antsier by the second. They don’t have time for this! Aoba has called for them to regroup and Ren really needs to make sure that he’s all right.

“Enough!”

Tori swerves too late. The booming voice disorients him, programming dictates his obedience to the owner of that voice. In that one second of confusion, a large pair of hands swoop in and cage his body, flapping wings forced into a fold despite the Allmate’s protest. His captor holds him up so that they’re at eye level and Tori feels great discomfort at seeing such a guilt-ridden look on Mink. He has to firmly remind himself that these people aren’t who they seem to be.

“You’re right, Tori,” Ren intones. “We are not Mink and Clear. I am Ren. And that is Noiz. We don’t know what’s going on but if we are to solve this, we need to meet up with the others. Will you help us?“

Tori intends to give him the stink-eye but instead finds himself distracted by another figure that has come up. “Clear” stands close by, looking at him without a word but with waves of irritation rolling off his lean frame; Tori definitely gets the Noiz-vibe from him. The Clear he knows is sunshine personified, a fountain of goodwill and positivity overflowing with affection. They just don’t make them like that anymore.

(It may have taken Mink a week of the other’s absence to realize it but Tori knows how much Mink’s desolate persona - and the entire Scratch team - benefits from Clear’s presence.)

Reevaluating the proposition, Tori reconciles with his predispositions. These two have no reason to lie to him considering what he’d witnessed so far. If Ren truly is the one in Mink’s person, then Tori has a duty to bring his master back. Clear, too, while he’s at it.

“Alright. I’ll cooperate.”

“Thank you.”

Ren eases his grip even as Noiz shouts, “Don’t be an idiot, he’ll fly away!”

“Hmph.” Tori spreads his wings and takes to the sky, shaking out the feathers that have been ruffled in spite of Ren’s careful vicegrip.

Hitting Mink’s shoulder does little to diffuse Noiz’ anger. “Nice going!” he spits out. “Letting the bird go so he can sic a bunch of ex-cons at us!”

Ren stumbles at the hit. Rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder, Ren regains balance with a frown. “He promised he’d help.”

“Oh yes. Because he’s so reliable.” Another punch.

Hearing that really makes Tori miss Clear’s ever-pacifying tone. He rides a passing breeze, swooping around the mismatched individuals. “Don’t rope me in with the likes of you,” he quips, perching on one of the motorbike’s handles. “Planning to just stand there all day?”

Huffing, Noiz heads over and crosses his arms. “Alright then, bird brain, get this bike going.”

“Noiz,” Ren admonishes, only to be ignored.

Clicking his tongue, Tori uses his beak to flip the ignition switch. The vehicle roars to life in an instant. Setting his gaze back to Ren and Noiz, he juts out his chin. “Well? Aren’t you two getting on?”

Noiz approaches the rumbling machine, but when Tori expects him to hop on he remains standing. Ren doesn’t even try to cover up his apprehension, looking at the motorbike like its a deathtrap of some sort. “Er…”

Tori swears to the high heavens that if he sees that look on Mink’s face one more time, he’s going to shortcircuit his system. “What now?”

Worrying his bottom lip (ugh), Ren is apologetic when he says, “We don’t know how to drive.”

...Of course. Tori should have known better than to expect things to go smoothly. What wouldn’t he give to get Mink in charge once again? “You two are hopeless,” he snips. “Fine. Take my AI chip and insert it into the port there. I suppose even you can do that much?” Tori directs that challenge to Noiz.

“Tsch.” Noiz picks up the Allmate and opens its chest compartment. “You won’t be this cocky after I finish reprogramming you.”

“Just you try,” Tori replies, unfazed. “You need me to drive you to the city. Do anything to my body and I’ll crash the both of you.”

The gasmasked face tilts. “Heh. Fair enough.”

* * *

Koujaku keeps expecting to be mobbed the entire way to Mizuki’s bar. He crosses paths with acquaintances and frequent customers, exceptionally alert should any of them throw their arms around him in greeting like they usually do, but instead he’s treated to polite smiles and nothing more. It’s honestly refreshing, though it doesn’t quite stave off his agitation. Ren isn’t bad-looking by any means so Koujaku doesn’t get why people don’t swarm him… On second thought, it’s probably for the best since Ren is already committed anyway.

Aoba’s coil has received confirmation from Noiz, Mink, and Koujaku (rather, whoever it is that’s in control of that body). They also got Mizuki’s compliance to clear his bar for the meantime. Dry Juice members never skimp out on post-party cleaning duty and it just wouldn’t do to have them there while Koujaku and the rest sort themselves out. Turning the corner of Black Needle’s address, they find the sidestreet completely deserted. Perfect. They stand before the main building wherein Mizuki’s tattoo shop is located, solidifying their resolves and mentally preparing themselves for whatever horror they’re about to face.

“Well.” Clear smiles, exuding a lot more confidence than he feels. “Shall we?”

Before Koujaku can give him his answer, the rumble of an engine fills the deserted alley.

A big, black motorbike whizzes past the end of the street. It drives out of sight but then does a double-take; it comes roaring back, heading towards Clear and Koujaku at full speed.

“Stay back!” Koujaku automatically pushes the smaller man out of harm’s way but Clear is having none of it.

Gripping Ren’s arm and pushing it down, Clear exclaims, “I know that bike!”

Speeding down the cramped side street, Noiz grips the handlebars tightly. “Out of the way, suckers!”

“Would you quit revving up the engine?” Tori’s completely exasperated tone is botched by the faulty display screen.

“Would you quit being a killjoy?” Noiz returns, grinning wide beneath the gasmask. Covered up as he is, he can still feel the wind’s caress and it’s somewhat thrilling.

“We’re on auto, for goodness’ sake!”

Ren would have loved to contribute to the conversation but with Mink’s dreadlocks whipping about his face, it’s a challenge to even open his mouth. What’s more, most of his focus is devoted to not-falling off the ride. He has one arm around Clear’s waist while the other cradles Tori’s Allmate body.

“Looks like we got ourselves a welcome party,” Noiz sneers, grabbing the brake lever even though Tori has already slowed them down.

As the engine sputters into silence, Ren finally looks up to find that they’re already in familiar territory. It doesn’t take him long to register the “welcome party” that Noiz implied. Aoba is right there, scot-free and beaming. Ren hastily shoves Tori’s body into Noiz’ hands, jumping off his seat and taking large strides towards Aoba.

Clear allows himself to be pulled into a tight hug. He breathes in Mink’s distinct scent, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck. Mink isn’t in danger. That fact alone relieves Clear’s heart of a good portion of the aches that wear it down. Still. Once the initial euphoria of their reunion has faded, Clear remembers that he’s in Aoba’s body and that Mink absolutely hates public displays of affection. Savoring the moment before he pulls back, Clear lightly knocks on the side of Mink’s head. “Uhm… Who’s there?”

The soft question brings Ren back to reality. Blinking, he backs away slightly, brows furrowing in concern. “Aoba? I-Is that not you?”

A shake of the head. “Aoba” gives him a sad smile, murmuring, “So it’s not you, either.”

“I…” Ren lets out a shaky breath and creates appropriate distance between them, arms falling limp to his sides. “May I ask who you are?”

“It’s me, Clear… And you must be Ren-san, correct?”

“Indeed.”

Motorbike parked, Noiz replaces Tori’s AI chip back into his body. The Allmate spares him a huff before spreading its wings and flying over to the real Clear… who is apparently in Aoba’s body. Noiz kind of feels sorry for Ren but seeing that put-down look on Mink’s face seriously gives him the heebie-jeebies. Striding up to Ren’s physical body, he cocks his head and wonders aloud, “So if puppy boy is over there then who are you supposed to be?”

Koujaku has no doubt that he could recognize that condescending tone through time and space. Only one person can grate on his nerves like this. And to think that he’d been worried about Noiz’ well-being.

Screw that.

The guy looked like he positively enjoyed himself in this bizarre situation, driving like a madman.

Seething, Koujaku delivers the most intense glare that Ren’s facial muscles can afford. “Watch your mouth, brat.”

Noiz reels back a step because wow those canines are for real. Then he recognizes the added inflection. No one is as unoriginal in calling him that than Koujaku. He’s pretty sure that whatever is going on right it’s because that geezer did something to him. All along he’d been doing well taunting whatever-it-is between them within self-preserving perimeters but then Koujaku had to go up and kiss him. Kissed him senseless in this very building they’re standing outside of and now everything has gone to hell.

Hands curl into fists as Noiz takes an offensive stance.

“You son of a - _bbaaaaaaaaa_!”

He sees the punch coming from a mile away but the bleating throws Koujaku off that he barely manages to dodge the attack.

Even Noiz has frozen up but there’s no denying that the sheep noises came from beneath “Clear’s” gasmask  -- in other words him.

Koujaku stares. Then he cracks up.

It only aggravates Noiz further. Pulling back his fist, he aims another punch but Koujaku easily catches it. The bastard has the gall to lean in close and grin.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Fuming, Noiz grits out, “You’re a _moooooo_ -ing piece of _cheep-cheep_! Aurgh!” He pulls back his hand, vowing to land a punch on that smarmy face.

“What the actual _mmmeeeooowww_?!?!”

Koujaku is laughing his head off, unable to take Noiz’ threats seriously when random animal sounds replace his swear words. It must be something about Clear’s person that prompts an avoidance to coarse language but hearing Noiz spew out such things really takes the cake.

“Whoops~” He deflects another punch. Noiz’ aim doesn’t seem to be getting any better and Koujaku can only imagine his frustration and embarrassment… _Ah._

A metaphorical light bulb turns on over his head.

Clear and Ren watch the play fight (because really, nobody can take it seriously at this point) from a distance. Tori has perched on “Aoba’s” shoulder and is watching the exchange with disinterest.

Ren fidgets. The Aoba beside him isn’t the real Aoba which means his Aoba might still be in danger and now he’s more anxious than before.

“Um…” Clear raises his voice, albeit uncertain if he would even be heard. Koujaku and Noiz seem to have forgotten that they’re not alone and they really need to get a grip already. “I’m glad that both of you are enjoying the auto-censor function but, erm, can we please get going?”

Noiz hears the plea but he’s not planning on stopping until he gets one good punch in. How dare that Koujaku enjoy his plight?! That bastard.

At least he can still curse him in his mind.

“Quit laughing, you _bbzzzzz_!!”

Another punch dodged and Noiz can seriously feel his face heat up. If he was in his normal body, Koujaku would have a broken nose by now. Instead, he gets both hands captured. Before he can do anything about it, Koujaku pulls him forward. Noiz braces himself for a punch but instead meets with a solid chest.

Koujaku releases “Clear’s” hands in favor of wrapping his arms around his middle. Noiz has every mean to start hitting him again and Koujaku doubts that he would miss this time given their closer range but he takes a chance still.

With his anger having swept over, he feels infinitely glad that the brat - his brat - is here and (somewhat) safe. Koujaku tightens his embrace, leaning his cheek against the side of snow-white hair.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he whispers.

The weight of those words isn’t lost on Noiz. His throat closes up, chest caving in with the hitch in his breath. Every ounce of rage dissipates and he sinks into the circle of “Ren’s” arms.

Noiz grips the edge of Ren’s t-shirt. “I didn’t want to see your stupid face anyway,” he mutters, scowling to himself when Koujaku only chuckles.

They stay like that for a few seconds until a pointed cough comes from the side.

“If you two are done rekindling your passionate romance,” Tori states in staggering sarcasm. “We have urgent matters to attend to.”

Reminded of the others’ presence, Noiz pushes Koujaku away before rounding on the Allmate, annoyance covering up his blush. “Shut up, bird brain!”

“Sorry for the delay.” Koujaku puts a hand on “Clear’s” shoulder but Noiz shrugs him off. Ah, well. He and Noiz still have a lot to work on… hopefully, they can get back to their real bodies soon so they can make some actual progress.

They enter the main building and meet scattered Dry Juice members who greet everyone but Mink who gets mistrusting glares. The Ribsters get fewer as they descend a flight of stairs to where Black Needle is situated. Walking up to the shop’s door, Clear raises his fist and gives three sharp knocks. “Hello~ Is anyone home?”

Ren is practically vibrating with anticipation. They have gathered four bodies - Mink’s, Clear’s, Aoba’s and his own. In addition to that are three consciousnesses other than himself - Koujaku, Noiz, Clear. Despite him and Clear being present in mind and body, they weren’t automatically switched back. This could only mean that it’s not enough to be in close proximities, they would have to do more to undo this inexplicable switch-up. The need to take action overcomes him and he grabs the doorknob after three seconds of no response.

“Oi, Ren!”

He doesn’t heed Koujaku’s words. Hearing them in his own voice only makes him want to distance himself from it. Barging into other people’s property is bad, Ren knows that, but Aoba - no, Clear’s message implied that Mizuki will be expecting them, so there’s really no …harm …done?

Following Mink’s formidable stature, Clear, Koujaku, and Noiz nearly crash into the broad back when Ren stops without warning. A rustle of feathers resound in the otherwise silent bar - Tori vacates “Aoba’s” shoulder to avoid getting caught up in the trainwreck. Really. Tori expected better of Ren but at this point, he’s just being hopelessly optimistic. Looking for a place to land, Tori scans the interior and nearly hits the row of glasses hanging from a rack over the bar counter.

Aoba looks up when the door is more or less slammed open following three rapt knocks and the four people they’ve been waiting for come crashing in. “Mink” leads the pack, dark eyes scanning the room as quick strides bring his imposing figure in. Following him are Clear, Ren, and… well. His own body. Aoba lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding - it’s a relief to see his body in one piece. He is just about to greet the newcomers when --

“What in the world…?”

Aoba can’t remember seeing Ren look so scandalized. He can’t remember seeing any of his friends look so scandalized.They’re all staring in his direction. W-What’s up with that? Feeling self-conscious, Aoba turns to Mink who is seated beside him.

Well, Aoba says Mink but, really, the body occupying the couch is Noiz’. The disinterested expression on his youthful face casually lifts into one that says he’s ready for business. The real Noiz is somewhere among those other four.

“ _What have you done_?!” Ren breaks the stupefied silence with a shriek. “ _Don’t tell me you came all the way here wearing that_!”

That’s the one.

Wearing a bright smile, Aoba addresses Ren. “Hey, Noiz…”

Ren’s left eye twitches. Clear raises his hand.

“He’s not Noiz. I am.”

“Eh?” Aoba blinks. “Then…”

Noiz-in-Clear’s-body jabs an elbow into Ren’s side. “It kind of suits you...” he teases, making Ren color an interesting shade of red.

Aoba quickly realizes that Noiz isn’t talking about his body’s get up. His guess is confirmed with the way that “Ren” is staring right at him. “Er… Koujaku?” he tries, voice pinched in fear that any sudden sound would make him blow off.

Koujaku already expects that his and Noiz’ bodies would be the last they’ll find since everyone else is accounted for but… he never expected it to be like this.

They’re on the waiting bench to Mizuki’s tattoo studio, sitting back like they’re just passing time until shop opens up. Koujaku should be glad that they’ve made it here safely but - _really?!?!!_

Noiz is dressed in his long-sleeved undershirt with a gray yukata loosely wrapped around his lean frame. Koujaku for one knows that Noiz doesn’t anything of the sort, for all his words of derision towards the older man’s fashion choices. The pinstripe pattern is interspersed with diamond outlines, its something that Kuojaku bought at a summer festival a long time ago. To see it fit so snugly on Noiz, personalized with loops of rabbit cubes attached to the sash… it does weird things to Koujaku’s old heart.

Then he sees his own body and his heart stops beating entirely.

Not only are his tattoos on display, but his hair is in a braid, his mother’s hairpin is missing, braces and bindings gone. Most of all he’s - he’s - he’s wearing…

“Don’t you complain that this shirt isn’t closed,” the Koujaku before him pouts, arms crossed defensively over his exposed chest. “Half the buttons are missing and I’m pretty sure that’s not my fault.”

_...Noiz’ shirt._

“Oh my god....” Palms meet his face and Koujaku wishes for the world to end right about now. Nevermind returning to his own body. It’s not like he can show his face in public after this. He could only imagine how many people saw his body in this get-up; it’s not a short walk from his home to Mizuki’s parlor. For all the care he took in emulating the person he woke up as, his counterpart didn’t seem to have shared a shred of the sentiment.

Noiz pats the hunched shoulder. “It’s not that bad,” he tries. “Your lame outfits didn’t stop me from liking you before…”

“W-What...?” Koujaku raises his head, unwilling to believe he’d heard that. From Noiz himself, no less.

“Shut up, I’m not saying it twice.” Noiz plants a gloved palm over “Ren’s” face to push Koujaku away. “So.” He looks down at his and Koujaku’s physical persons. “Who are you two supposed to be?”

“Mink,” goes his own body.

“Aoba,” says Koujaku.

“Aoba?!” Ren steps forward, finally shaking off the shock.

Mink cringes at the doe-eyed look on his face. Seriously. He has a reputation here and if whoever is in control of his body so much as made a smidge of that --

“Ren?” Aoba jumps to his feet.

“Aoba!” fake-Mink exclaims, coming nearer with a full-blown smile of relief. The smile he wears looks somewhat strained, facial muscles being unused to it for so long.

“Ren!!!” Aoba meets his lover halfway, throwing his arms around his neck and pulling them close.

Ren wastes no time in returning Aoba’s embrace. He circles Koujaku’s waist, burying his face between neck and shoulder, holding on tight.

Mink just _stares_. Then, needing affirmation that he has not completely lost his mind and is hallucinating, he turns to the others.

Ren (who has identified himself as Koujaku) has his jaw hanging open, brows knitted in something like disgust. Mink doesn’t blame him. Beside Ren is… Clear’s body… but is supposedly Noiz. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking with the gasmask on. The last member of the group is “Aoba”, though by process of elimination, Mink can confidently assume that that man is Clear.

_Clear._

As if to further confirm this, Tori flies in and perches on “Aoba’s” shoulder. Well. Good to know his Allmate is witnessing all this embarrassment.

“You can stop that now,” comes Tori’s voice, authority amplifying his disapproving expression.

Ren blinks. Forehead touching, he could almost swear that he can see the real Aoba reflected in Koujaku’s eyes. Hearing Tori call them out, however, prompts him to pull back.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Aoba tells him, touching Mink’s cheek.

“So am I,” agrees Ren, squeezing at Koujaku’s waist. “But this is really weird, Aoba.”

“You’re telling me!” Koujaku exclaims, loud and unexpected, making the couple break apart in surprise.

Beside him, Noiz shrugs and buries his hands into the pockets of Clear’s labcoat. “It was pretty funny.”

“No it was not!”

“Oh lighten up, old man!”

“Don’t tell me to lighten up!”

Clear raises his hand. “To be fair, you guys were acting out a while ago, too, so…”

Twin shouts of “No we weren’t!” come at him in response.

“Yes, you were,” Ren points out with a glare at the pair’s direction. “And it was weird because you were using my body--”

“Get your hands off me, then,” Koujaku retorts.

“I’m not touching you!”

“Yes you are!” Koujaku gestures to where Ren still has Mink’s hands on Koujaku’s waist.

Ren angrily turns, fire flashing in his eyes. “Then give me back my body!”

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Mink is on his feet, the glare he broadcasts on Noiz’ pierced face decrees a broken limb to anyone stupid enough to retaliate.

In the stretch of silence that follows, the creak of the front door turning and slamming shut might as well have been a guillotine that sealed their fates.

A pointed cough comes from behind the door.

Mizuki holds a broom with both hands. The smile on him is strained as he looks at the people who have gathered in his bar.

“So… What’s up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me five chapters to get them all together ahaha... time to have some fun~  
> bonus mini-guide of whose consciousness is in whose body~  
> 


	6. Mizuki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter ^^;
> 
> putting the mini-guide here to refresh and stuff
> 
>  

A new round of shouting starts up with Mizuki’s reveal. Distressed appeals come at him from all angles, one complaint merging into another and Mizuki has to do _something_ before all these angry faces swallow him up.

“Guys! Guys! Guys!” Waving his arms in front of him to dissuade the entire party from closing in, Mizuki stops short of actually sweeping his broom at his friends to keep them at bay. He’s not going to resort to barbarism to sort this out… hopefully. “Can we _please_ act like civilised human beings for one second?”

Six pairs of confused eyes look at one another. Clear raises his hand but pointed coughs from Mink and Noiz dissuade him from saying a word.

“Nobody is going to kill or maim anyone until we sort things out.” Mizuki utilizes the tone of voice that no Dry Juice member has ever dared to defy. Setting his broom aside, Mizuki gestures to the empty (if a bit untidy) lounge. “Settle down and we can begin.”

 

There’s more than a few grumbles as the collective trudges past the room partition to find space for themselves. Inevitably, Aoba and Ren end up sitting together, hands entwined. Noiz sits beside Ren, filling up the three-person couch, with Koujaku across him. The scowl on Koujaku’s face is reflected on Mink who sits on the opposite end of the same couch, both of them staring at the laced hands of their persons.

“Does anyone want drinks, by the way? Water? Coffee?” Mizuki asks.

“I don’t believe coffee is good for hangovers,” Ren points out. Lack of personal experience aside, he remembers - now that half his mind isn’t worried about Aoba in danger - reading hangover tips from a magazine back when he was undergoing therapy. Not that those pointers stopped him last night but… well… nothing he can do about that now.

“Riiiiight. Water it is.” Mizuki heads behind the bar, stopping when he finds “Aoba” there.

“Don’t worry, Mizuki-san.” Clear holds up a pitcher of water and seven tall glasses on a tray. “I got it.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you…” Mizuki squints, his statement trailing as he becomes unsure of who to address. “Er…”

“Clear,” the guy clarifies with a genial smile.

“Clear!” Mizuki exclaims. “Of course! Wait, let me do that.”

Delivering the drinks, Mizuki tries very hard not to stare at the state his friends are in. He already gathered that what he sees isn’t to be believed - “Noiz and Koujaku’s” arrival was only a preview of worse things to come - but having them all here in the flesh with mixed up personalities is nowhere near the morning-after situations that he’s used to dealing with. He really kind of wishes this is some kind of weird hangover dream.

Settling down on the only seat left, Clear startles when a hand tightly grips his arm. “Eh? What is it, Mink-san?”

The serious expression on Noiz’ face tightens for a second before Mink shakes his head and lets go. He _saw_ Noiz’ hand grasping at the jacket just now, he _knows_ how the cloth is supposed to feel, Clear’s reaction just confirms that he _did_ make contact… He just didn’t _feel_ it. Flexing his fingers, Mink casts a surreptitious glance at Noiz.

Catching the stare, Noiz finds it odd to have his own suspicious look thrown at him. He doesn’t need to ask why Mink is eyeing him like that but he doesn’t want to explain himself either. Nobody needs to know about his condition, especially not some ex-convict of a Ribster. As soon as they’re back in their own bodies, Mink will surely to forget all about it. Wringing his hands together, Noiz is the first to look away, staring instead at the entwined digits and focusing on the subtle texture of Clear’s gloves.

Aoba can’t remember ever being on the receiving end of Koujaku’s fury. It’s very unnerving; reminding him of the fact that his best friend is in fact a gang leader of the highest calibre. He understands why Koujaku is upset - okay, so upset might be an understatement - but Aoba had nothing except pure intentions when he chose this get-up. Sure it’s tacky as hell but, Koujaku has to understand that this isn’t meant to bring him down. Quite the opposite, actually.

Ren takes a large gulp of water. In their haste to meet up with everyone else, he and Noiz had forgone breakfast so now his stomach is clamoring for food. It’s bad for him to put off eating but there are more urgent matters at hand. The sooner they resolve this, the sooner he can chow down.

 

“So do I have to make a roll call or…?” Mizuki’s attempt to start their discussion is met with tight-lipped stares. “Right. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Aoba perks up. “I was cuddling with Mink-san after we had-”

“ _Aside from that_ ,” Mizuki quickly cuts in with a tense smile. Even knowing that the mind behind that person is Clear, he still sees him as Aoba. And the mental image of Aoba and Mink cuddling isn’t one that Mizuki needs inside his head this early in the morning. “Thank you for the clarification. Does anyone remember anything _before_ the nasty bits?”

Clear - no , _Noiz_? - snickers while the rest look deep in thought.

Mizuki really can’t keep a tab on these guys, might as well call them as he sees them.

“I think someone brought a karaoke machine,” Koujaku says with a tilt of his head.

“No, that was just Hagima,” Ren corrects him. “He likes to sing when drunk.”

“Oh.”

“The lights were really bright and I couldn’t hear anything over the music,” Clear-in-Aoba’s-body adds. “Which is kind of surprising because I usually have very good hearing.”

Mink nods. “I agree. The party got a bit out of hand near the end so we had to leave.”

“Sure, you did,” Clear chuckles. “That was your only reason for leaving the party way before anyone else.”

“Like you were any better.” Koujaku side-eyes the gasmask-wearing man.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clear demands.

Koujaku dons a sly smirk, turning the other way. “Nothing~”

“You invited us here for free drinks,” a very solemn Noiz talks over what is gearing up to be another petty fight. “That’s the one thing we have in common.”

“I see…” Mizuki clears his throat.

“Didn’t you serve us a round last night?” Ren asks.

“Y-Yeah.”

“That happened at the earliest point of the party,” Mink states, looking up at Mizuki who finds it odd how that same face can appear so non-threatening given the right intonation and minus the furrow in his brow.

“It looked like a lava lamp and tasted like _quack_.”

 

Koujaku cracks up before he can stop himself, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth before his snickering gets too loud. Everyone else is staring at Noiz who, in turn, is sending Clear what is sure to be a death glare from under his mask. Clear only smiles sheepishly in response.

“It tasted like… what?” Aoba clarifies, lips trembling from holding in his chuckles.

Bristling, Noiz slowly enunciates his response. “I said it was _oink_ -ing weird.”

Aoba lets out a graceless snort, looking around to see how the others are taking to this bizarre quirk. He finds Koujaku staring at the man opposite him, wearing the fondest look on Ren’s face. Koujaku is surrounded by beautiful men and women everyday but Aoba has never seen that lovestruck expression on him so he has to ask before his curiosity kills him. “Uh, side question.” He points his raised hand at Koujaku and Noiz. “Since when were you two a thing and why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Koujaku straightens up, putting down the hand that’s been cradling his cheek a second ago.

Noiz looks at Koujaku, glares, then he turns back to Aoba and glares some more.

“We’re not a thing!”

Sensing ill-intent, Ren uses Mink’s broad figure to shield Aoba from Noiz. “But everyone that has switched bodies are involved with someone else in this group.”

“Uh… Involved implies a long-term kind of thing…” Koujaku avoids the inquiring gaze he knows is boring holes into his head.

“Exactly.” Noiz’ agreement, however, does not mean that he is pacified as he immediately rounds on Koujaku. “The one time I actually sleep with you and this happens. You stinking _ribbit_!”

Clear giggles but the smile on him falls when his own body turns to him.

“And you-!”

“So maybe it wasn’t specifically a couple thing!” Mizuki interjects, hands held up to dissuade Noiz from getting up and starting a brawl as he is prone to do. “Maybe it just happened to those who got drunk last night?”

“Has anyone else actually come up to you bearing this problem?” Aoba asks, only slightly rhetorical.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Mizuki evasively answers, “Well, no…”

“So it’s just us,” Clear posits.

“Looks like it,” Ren agrees, apprehensive.

“The only thing I drank was the one you served.” Mink casts an accusatory look at Mizuki. He trusted this man with their alcohol and there is going to be a reckoning if Mizuki proves himself to be the culprit .

 

The group regards each other, coming to a wordless conclusion. Mizuki knows that the jig is up and he’d rather not find out what would happen if he denies the truth any longer. Taking a deep breath, Mizuki has to admit that it’s no use leaving his friends in the dark when the consequences are this dire; better for everyone to get on the same page so they can hopefully reverse this.

“Okay, so I _might_ have added a special ingredient…” He bites his tongue when six disgruntled faces turn to him, prompting the hasty addition of, “But I didn’t think it would work!”

“ _What did you do?!_ ”

It is very disconcerting to hear that high-pitched squeal coming from Koujaku.

“Mizuki.”

Ah, damn. Serious-face Ren can really get scary.

“Show me what you put in our drink.”

Mizuki doesn’t need to be told twice. He runs behind his bar and ducks to rummage through the cabinets, popping up a minute later with a small vial in his hands. Everyone is on their feet, watching him with a sniper’s focus; Mizuki fights back the urge to run. Instead, he returns with a proverbial tail between his legs.

Noiz snatches the bottle from him as soon as he’s close enough, sparing Mizuki a dirty look before turning his attention to the empty vial. There's a red ribbon around the neck bearing a tag with some text printed on it.

**Philtre d'amour**

“What does it say?” Koujaku asks.

Aoba peers around Noiz’ shoulder when the man keeps turning the tag front and back without a word. “What is it, Mink-san?”

Noiz thrusts the bottle at him with a huff. “It’s useless.”

The others crowd around Aoba, attempting to decipher the label to no avail. “...”

Mizuki takes a cautious step back to give them space but is halted by a strong grip on his shoulder. A two-centimeter height advantage isn’t enough, apparently, as Noiz’ glare instantly gets him on the edge.

“Do you have any idea what that is?” Noiz demands.

“N-no?” Mizuki hates how he stuttered his response. He’s a respected Rib leader god damn it. He’s not going to be pushed around by some brat of a Rhymer. “The lady who sold it to me just said to mix it in your drinks and it’ll work it’s charm!”

Gritting his teeth, Noiz grabs Mizuki by the front of his shirt, pulling the man down to his level. “What if it was poison, you fool?!”

“It’s not poison,” Mizuki insists, displacing the hand on his person and rendering his full height. Inwardly, he recognizes the valid point and it sends chills down his spine. “I think I would know poison when I see it.”

Noiz’ intense displeasure is painted all over his face. “Did you even understand a single word on that tag?”

“Well… no. B-But the lady said it’s supposed to help with love problems so…”

At that, the group trying to decipher the vial give up on their attempt, turning as one towards the perpetrator.

“I can’t believe you would do this to us?!” Koujaku exclaims, betrayal punctuating his tone. Beside him, Mink sports a distrustful look which only adds to Mizuki’s guilt.

“I didn’t know it was going to end up like this!”

“All right, enough complaining.” Ren steps up to stand beside Mizuki. The look he wears isn’t of forgiveness but it does say that he’s willing to give Mizuki a chance to patch things up. “Since we’re not getting anything here, do you remember where you bought the potion?”

“Y-Yes. Of course.” Mizuki pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to access his Coil.

 

“I swear the shop was right here!!”

Mizuki stares at deserted alley in disbelief. Granted, it was night when he last visited the place and he wasn’t entirely sober that time, still, that shop had no business to just disappear on him. It has only been two days!

“Mizuki…”

He gulps, facing a row of very angry faces. “It was exactly the size of this street,” he cries, spreading his arms to emphasize the dimensions. “There were draperies and fairy lights! And a bead curtain! It was right here!” He steps aside, miming parting the aforementioned curtains and stepping inside. “The shelf with the vials was on that side and the shop lady wore this little hat-”

“Enough!” Mink cracks his knuckles. The piercings on Noiz’ face coupled with his unforgiving scowl makes for a very threatening atmosphere.

“The people next door don’t recall there being a shop like that around here,” Ren informs the group, having taken the initiative to ask around.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Aoba asks, more fearful than anything else.

“ _Yes!_ ” Mizuki pulls out the map on his coil. “The invitation said to go right here! All the landmarks are right so it has to be around here somewhere!”

“You either fix this now or I’m going to--”

“Mink-san!” Clear implores.

“Maybe the shop opens up late?” Koujaku suggests reasonably. “Or it’s one of those pop-up businesses that don’t have a permanent address. Let’s not treat this as a dead end--”

“Speak for yourself,” Noiz grumbles. “Your stellar _friend_ over here spiked _our_ drinks. _We_ end up in this bodyswap catastrophe, and _he_ doesn’t know the first thing to changing us back. This stopped being funny half an hour ago.”

“O-Okay, how about this...” Mizuki raises both hands placatingly. “I’m going to mobilize my entire team to look for the shopkeeper. With our number we’re sure to find her in no time, yeah?” He takes a cautious step back, wary of how the group twitches as if tugged forward by the minimal movement.

“You guys can just chill…”

The smile he puts up is ridden with guilt.

“Maybe have some heart to heart…”

But sympathy is not enough to override his survival instinct, the one he’d been battling ever since he got that e-mail from Aoba warning him of an unusual situation. And it is unusual, too much, in fact, that Mizuki fears his mind might just explode trying to make sense of this inexplicable mix-up. He had only wanted to sort out his friends’ unnecessarily-complicated love lives but it’s now apparent that he did the exact opposite of what he’d intended.

Without so much as a goodbye, Mizuki turns heel and leaves them all in the dust. He runs like his life depends on it (which it does), forcing his legs to take him faster when he hears indignant shouts in his wake.

There are two of the island’s strongest Rib leaders, an extraordinarily strong gasmaked enigma, a Rhymer with no regard to collateral damage, the world’s most over-protective boyfriend, and Aoba Seragaki on his trail. Mizuki had never been a particularly religious man but there are some things that are simply beyond one’s control and would need the intervention of a higher power to survive.

He turns the corner, runs, and prays for the salvation of his damned soul.


	7. Koujaku & Aoba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dicksquad has paired up post Ren's good end. 'Paired up' is putting it lightly because it's apparently not so easy getting happily ever afters in Gay Island - er, Midorijima. Stuck in the middle of this Mess (with a capital M) is Mizuki (also with a capital M.) And he is sick and tired of everyone being total smitten idiots especially when he's not even getting some for himself. Cue a drunk night out, a mysterious e-mail, and then more drunken shenanigans.
> 
> If there's an award for the worst-morning-after we've got six contenders right here ladies and gents: Ren woke up as Mink who woke up as Noiz who woke up as Clear who woke up as Aoba who woke up as Koujaku who woke up as Ren. Whew! Dial 1-800-CLUSTERFUCK to vote for your favorite model on the Got Laid Parade!
> 
> They cornered Mizuki who revealed that he slipped them a little something-something to cure their pretty love squabbles but it turns out antiquated love potions tend to ruin everything for everyone. Oops? So Mizuki finally listens to common sense, hightails it outta there, and our dear boys are left to work out how to fix themselves~
> 
> And that's what you missed on _Clusterfuck_ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
>    
> Shit I am so sorry for the delay. Thanks to Kaz for the beta and balancing my shipping biases.

“Hand them over,” Noiz says as soon as the door shuts behind them. Mink regards him coldly, disliking the authoritative tone used, but the rabbit cubes are transferred without incident. There is a mutual, if begrudging, understanding that cooperation is the key to finding a solution to their not-so-little mishap.

Mizuki had run off on them and while pursuing the man would’ve been a cinch, Koujaku (specifically, Aoba in Koujaku’s body) unexpectedly got hoarded by a handful of adoring and very concerned fans. They were demanding why Koujaku didn’t show up to their appointments, critically eyeing the man’s uncharacteristic get up the entire time.

Aoba, being at a loss on how to deal with the women clamoring for his attention, turned to the expert. The real Koujaku, of course, went into code red and quickly told Aoba to apologize, smiling tensely all the while. As Aoba dealt with Koujaku’s clients, the man himself ordered a retreat into their only safe haven -- Black Needle. They can’t risk getting any more exposed than they already are. It’s bad enough that they’re being seen together out in broad daylight like this. Mink had all intentions of ignoring that lame plan, he would have been fine chasing the guilty Mizuki down by himself but Noiz shot down that idea, saying it will be best if they all stuck together for the mean time. Get their heads together to figure out their next plan of action. Ren and Clear were all for avoiding any more unnecessary altercations.

“Besides,” Noiz had said as they made their way back once Aoba had pacified the irate women with promises of rescheduling their appointments. “I can’t have you running around town in my body. You won’t survive getting ambushed in a drive-by Rhyme battle.”

Tsch. For all Mink knew, that was just the Maniac’s excuse to save Red’s ass from the prissy mob of unattended customers. It’s all Aoba’s fault for shutting Beni down, anyway. Mink witnessed his panic when the notifications and messages started popping up that morning. Incompetent, this lot. Mink wonders how in the world he ever got roped in with the likes of them.

While Noiz sets up his operating system - virtual screens popping up all around him, the eyepieces of Clear’s gasmask reflecting the digital glow - Koujaku pulls Aoba aside, a faint argument trailing them.

“Where are you taking Aoba?” Ren demands, making to follow the pair but his own glaring face stops him in his tracks.

“We’re going to have a talk,” Koujaku says, plain yet powerful. “Alone.”

Aoba gulps but he puts up a reassuring smile for his boyfriend. “Don’t worry, Ren. It’s just a little talk.You, ah, try and help around, okay?”

“I-” The curtain to the inner room that is Mizuki’s tattoo studio flutters close, effectively cutting off any attempt to argue further. Ren digs his nails into the meat of his palms, subduing the urge to run after them. “I’ll just wait here, then.”

Noiz spares a quick glance to where Koujaku had disappeared, finding Ren’s discouraged stance frozen in place. It’s kind of pathetic.

“Just think of it this way, Mink-san,” Clear is saying from somewhere else in the shop. “Mizuki-san is bound to come back here.”

“This is his place after all,” Tori adds.

Clear nods, glad to have the Allmate backing him up. “So instead of wasting time and effort looking for him in the streets, it’s easier to have him come to us, yes?”

Mink concedes to the point with a grunt, though it’s about time he wonders whether Clear is spending a little too much time at Scratch that he’s starting to pick up on certain habits. 

* * *

Aoba knows it’s bad when Koujaku releases his arm and goes straight to the cabinet at the far corner. He’s surprised when Koujaku crouches down and opens a mini fridge, bringing out a dark brown bottle.

“Is that…?” He doesn’t want to say ‘poison’ given their most recent and unfortunate encounter with questionable liquid substances but Koujaku finishes the sentence for him.

“Fine malt,” Koujaku says, finding a couple of shot glasses and deeming them useable. “Mizuki’s secret stash. Sit with me.”

Obediently, Aoba pulls up a chair to the bench Koujaku occupies. The man hands him a shot glass then proceeds to down his own before refilling it. Aoba is more than a little worried. “Koujaku… I’m sorry. About all this.” He gestures at the body he’s occupying, drinking up the shot given to him in one quick gulp. “And those clients, too. I promise I’ll pay you back the amount you would’ve earned with--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Koujaku waves him off, pouring more drinks for the both of them. “It would’ve been a bigger disaster if you actually showed up to my appointments.”

“Because cutting hair is such a hard thing to do~” Aoba teases, lips quirked in amusement.

“Damn right it is.” Koujaku laughs heartily, savoring the exquisite taste on his tongue coupled with the warmth spreading through his veins.

“Is it really alright for us to drink Mizuki’s secret stash like this?” Aoba wonders, tipping back his glass for the fourth or fifth time. “I mean…”

“It’s fi~ne.” Koujaku grins loosely. “After what he did.... This isn’t enough compensation~” He licks his lips. “Even though it is pretty good.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Aoba agrees, breathing in the aroma. “I still can’t believe he’d do that to us…”

Koujaku nurses another shot, lips set on the smooth rim, contemplative. Even though Mizuki is younger than him by a couple of years, he respects the man as the leader of the island’s biggest Ribsteez team. That respect only grew when Mizuki willfully resumed his role following the unfortunate incident with Morphine the past year. Mizuki is a strong man but, Koujaku knows, even the strongest men have their breaking point. “Although…”

Aoba looks up, noting the change in Koujaku’s tone.

“Maybe we _were_ a little too hard on him…”

“What do you mean?” Aoba sits up straighter, a little intrigued.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Koujaku lifts his gaze to the ceiling, grip tightening a little around the neck of the bottle. “I guess I’ve been bothering him a lot lately. Most weekends I wake up smelling like vomit on his couch.”

“Oh my god, why?” Leaning forward until he’s almost at the edge of his seat, Aoba’s expression is twisted with worry.

It’s weird to see his own face looking like that, weirder still when he takes in the whole picture - Noiz’ shirt on his shoulders barely covering up the cursed tattoo wrapped around his body. It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with himself.

Taking Koujaku’s lack of response to be stalling, Aoba ventures, “Does it have anything to do with Noiz?” The way the amber eyes before him shamefully flit away answers the question. “You know, I admit that I’m offended that I had to find out about your relationship this way.”

Koujaku shrinks at that, biting on his bottom lip. “There really isn’t anything of a relationship to talk about. And if there _was_ , I wouldn’t hide it from you... intentionally.”

“But you were apparently getting drunk on Mizuki over it.”

“...Yeah, I’m not proud of that,” Koujaku admits, taking another drink.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me?” Aoba pouts. “I’m your friend too, aren’t I? Is it really that hard to admit that you’re in love?”

Koujaku splutters, whisky running down his chin and dripping onto Ren’s navy shirt. “Aoba!!”

“Well, aren’t you?” Aoba presses. “Isn’t that the reason why you don’t know what to do with yourself when it comes to Noiz?”

“I-It’s not that easy!” Hastily wiping away the drink from his face, Koujaku holds off on refilling his glass. “I can’t explain it. Most of the time he just makes me so angry, taunting me whenever we see each other like it’s his job, and then I - when I finally get to punch him, it’s fucking _exhilarating_ , you know? That can’t be love, Aoba. It’s twisted that I find _joy_ in beating the shit out of someone I’m supposed to love.”

“Riiight.” Aoba gives him a wry smile. “Because _you_ know what being in love - _real love_ is like, right mister lady killer?”

Right then Koujaku’s heart skips a beat. The tattoo parlor is quiet, sheltered from whatever ruckus is going on outside by the curtained doorway. There’s no one here but the two of them and a half-empty bottle of whisky. Aoba is sitting so close he could touch him with little more than a brief reach of his hand. “I thought I did,” he finally confesses, meeting the crimson irises of his own gaze, maybe imagining the brief flash of hazel that looks back at him. “Once upon a time, I fell in love. And I promised I would never hurt them, never let them get hurt. That I’ll always be there to make them smile.”

Aoba feels the hair on his arms stand but he shakes off the feeling. This is _Koujaku_. His childhood friend, who is saying all the right things, all the things that he wants to hear… but he isn’t Ren. Even if he is in Ren’s body. There is no doubt that Aoba loves Koujaku dearly so it’s a no-brainer that he should help the man fix his own love problems but... “You promised me that.”

“I did,” Koujaku nods, bittersweet smile rising. He watches the minute frown that worms its way through his own facial features. Aoba must have gotten the underlying message because he stays silent, lips flexing in search of words that refuse to form. Koujaku wants to take his hand, renew those vows in an entirely new context but Ren’s body won’t cooperate. He realizes he’s gripping his own wrist, the pulse underneath it ticks calmly. He thinks of Noiz, of the torrential rush in his blood when _their_ “confession” came in the form of bodies tangled between red silk sheets. It was a thrill greater than any exchange of fists or kick to the shins. Intimate.

“But the thing is,” Koujaku quickly adds, breaking the meaningful silence. “I can’t even imagine _saying_ those words to Noiz. When I see him, the first thing I want to do is break his face…” Looking at the warped expression of his own mien through the shot glass, Koujaku frowns. “Then maybe I’ll kiss away his bruises... that is if he’d even _let_ me near him again.” He narrows his eyes at the whiskey bottle, partially blaming it for the contradictions spilling out of him. “Argh. I wish it could just be _easy_ between us… just like you and Ren.” He refills his glass.

Aoba’s lax expression pinches with disbelief. “Y-You think I have it easy?”

Koujaku shrugs at him, downing another shot.

“Oh, really.” Disbelief morphs Aoba’s easy-going air into one of indignance. “You think being together with the embodiment of my subconscious who now resides in my twin brother’s body is _easy_?” He grabs the whiskey bottle from Koujaku, drinking straight from the bottle. “Let me tell you one thing, buddy - it is _far_ from easy.”

Distracted by the sudden disappearance of his pillaged drink, Koujaku doesn’t fully absorb the entirety of Aoba’s rant. The part about disembodied somethings flew right over his head but he does get the implied discontent. “At least you know that Ren loves you,” Koujaku says sourly, wondering if he should get another bottle from Mizuki’s stash. “All Noiz ever says is how he hates my stupid face. My face isn’t stupid!”

“If he doesn’t love you,” Aoba points the lip of his bottle at his friend in all seriousness. “Or at least like you a bit, he won’t even try to insult you, you stupid hippo.”

Koujaku blinks. Facing Aoba like this, it’s almost like he’s being reprimanded by his own subconscious. And it’s much more effective than all his pep talks in front of the mirror.

“He’s obviously trying to get your attention,” Aoba continues, taking a quick sip of whisky. “That’s cute… Ren used to be so cute,” he whispers as an afterthought, setting a glassy-eyed look on Ren’s physique before him.

“Then why doesn’t he just say so?” Koujaku complains, taking back the whiskey bottle so he could drink from it himself. Aoba retrieves the empty shot glass from his other hand, setting it down beside the one that’s already on the floor. “I don’t understand why it has to be so complicated. Is it a generational thing? Is that why I’m not getting this?”

Aoba bursts into giggles at hearing that, almost knocking over their glasses. “Pffft. Generational thing~ Who the hell says that? See, this is why he likes to make fun of you~”

Ignoring the jab at his chosen terminology, the more sober part of Koujaku’s mind reminds him of Aoba’s previous comment. “So what’s wrong with Ren? He’s always all over you, don’t you like that? _I’d_ want that…”

“You want _Ren_ all over you?” Aoba asks, suddenly wary.

“What -- no!!” Wiping a hand down his face, Koujaku clarifies, “I meant I’d want that kind of attention.”

“ _Oh._ ” Aoba looks away, sheepish. “I see… I don’t hate that he’s affectionate and all but… I kind of want to try it, you know. Just _once_ I wanna be in charge but every. single. time. I try, he does that whole 'pleading face' thing-”

“Puppy eyes.”

“Yes, that one.”

“Brings down even the best of us.” Koujaku nods sagely, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“So I’m trying to be dominant yeah? And he tells me it feels good, it’s okay. So we go on like that and things get intense but at the crucial moment I'm suddenly on my back and Ren--"

Koujaku chokes, quickly covering his mouth to keep the alcohol from staining Ren’s clothes and Mizuki’s couch. He doesn’t need to feed his imagination with Ren and Aoba’s private life any more than he has already been exposed to.

Aoba takes pity and relieves him of the whiskey bottle, now down to its last half-pint. He puts the cool glass bottom against Koujaku’s forehead, grinning amiably.

Looking up at Ren’s distorted reflection on the dark bottle’s body, Koujaku closes his tired eyes. “You… you just have to make him listen,” he mumbles, guiding the bottle away. “You guys are good at that… talking things out… and, well, I think you need to be a little assertive, too.”

“Right.” Aoba sits back, setting the whiskey on his knee. His gaze traces the intricate tattoos on Koujaku’s forearm, staring at the red abrasions around the wrist. Something clicks inside his head. "Hey, you're always so damn assertive. How do you do it?"

The alcohol has worked its way into his system, making Koujaku a little sluggish in his reply. “Well… Part of it is sticking by your words. And really meaning them.”

Attempting to flush away thoughts of Ren and Aoba’s intimacies has Koujaku resorting to thinking of his own most recent experience. It’s probably not the best time to recall what transpired the night before but he’d rather have his own graphic recollections than Aoba’s. He sees Noiz, back pressed against the bar, strobelights sucked into the dilation of his pupils. He hears the authority in his own voice when he declared that he’s not going to let Noiz out of his sight, feels the shiver down his spine when Noiz whispered how Koujaku should probably take him home then.

“A-And you shouldn’t give in even when they're... uh…” Koujaku's mouth is left a little dry as he stares into space, feeling like his blood is about to reach its boiling point. To say that Noiz was _willing_ last night would require a superlative revision of the word. "Even when they're looking at you all... like that…” He and Noiz had never really seen eye to eye, per se, but when they did, it felt all-consuming, _liberating_ , and “so hot..."

Aoba... is not pleased at the direction Koujaku’s so-called advice is taking; he makes a pointed cough that echoes loudly in the parlor. "I'd really appreciate it if you don’t pop a boner while in my boyfriend's body, Koujaku."

Shaken by the sharp tone of voice, Koujaku promptly sits up straight to regain his bearings. Clearing his thoughts prove to be a challenge but he manages, somewhat; out of respect for Aoba if nothing else. He glances at the curtain to the entry room where, knowing him, Ren would surely be waiting for Aoba’s return. He’s just that dedicated and Koujaku can’t fault that. It’s proof enough of Ren’s love that Koujaku has to concede that Aoba is in good - if somewhat over-eager - hands.

Shaking his head, Aoba drinks some more. “So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t give in when he uses those puppy dog eyes at me,” he summarises, wiping his lips with the back of one hand. “I think I can do that. Although...” He shows off the red marks around Koujaku’s wrists that he’d found that morning, a conniving grin on his face. “If that plan doesn’t work, can I borrow those ropes from you?"

Flushing red from a whole different reason than the alcohol he’d imbibed, Koujaku buries his face in his hands. “Aobaaa.”

“Wha~t?” Aoba’s nonchalance is devilish to say the least.


	8. Mink & Ren

“Mink-san.”

His feet automatically stop moving, intuition rather than tactile sense informing him of the other’s approach. “I’m just stretching out my legs,” Mink says, turning away from the front door. He faces Clear, daring the shorter man to call his bluff. “I’m tired of sitting on my ass and doing nothing.” Nevermind that it’s only been five minutes. “Why is it okay for that bird to go out and not me?”

Clear presses a finger to his cheek and tilts his head, the longer strands of Aoba’s hair falling off his shoulder with the action. “Well, Tori-san can easily cover more ground~ And even if you do have your motorcycle, you can’t guarantee that you won’t get in trouble.”

“Tsch.” Mink looks past Clear’s worried face to where Noiz is seated in one of the couches, holographic screens blinking all around him. “So our recovery lies in the hands of a maniac.”

“At least I’m doing something,” Noiz quips, not once moving his gaze away from his work.

It takes quick reflexes for Clear to hold off Mink’s attempt to stomp over and give Noiz a piece of his mind. “Noiz-san that was uncalled for,” Clear reproves, to which Noiz replies with an offhand shrug. “We should all be working together here.”

Mink scoffs,  “You call that ‘working together’?” He jerks his head over to where Koujaku and Aoba had gone, leaving Ren who is awkwardly shuffling his feet outside closed curtains.

“Master and Koujaku-san had something private to talk about,” Clear says, loosening his hold albeit diffidently.

“Sure, they do.” Mink pockets his hands, unable to stand looking at his physical body acting so... weak. There’s no logical reason for him to be confined here, waiting for a miraculous cure. Being in this... unusual... body will certainly cause some restriction in his movements but it won’t be completely unmanageable. Just as he’s deciding to take that first step, he hears Clear’s contemplative voice.

“...Ren-san looks like he needs someone to talk to, though.”

Green eyes catch hazel. Mink wonders when the word “considerate” resurfaced in his vocabulary. Probably around the same time a certain scarf-wearing enigma latched onto him for no discernible reason other than “I think it’s a shame that Mink-san doesn’t smile as much as he ought to.” At least that was what Clear told him before.

And now Clear is beaming, taking Mink’s hand and squeezing it, as though the other man needed his reassurance.

For a second, Mink thinks that he finally felt something.

* * *

 

“Hey, you.”

Ren startles, whipping around and almost hitting Mink in the face with his own hand. He immediately steps back so as to not cause any unnecessary harm.  “... Um.” His eyes dart to the other people in the room then back to Noiz’ person that’s in front of him. “Mink…?”

Huffing, Mink crosses his arms. “Don’t just stand there. If you want to go after him, then go.”

“But Aoba said…” Ren pauses, hesitates.

“What does it matter what Aoba said?” Mink doesn’t wait for an answer. “You have no right to look so beaten down wearing my body.”

Ren flinches at the reprimand, lips pulled into a frown that is as wrinkled as his furrowed brows. “I’m sorry.”

“That, too.” A scowling Mink grabs the lapel of his coat, pulling Ren down to his level. “Quit apologizing for every little thing. Get a hold of yourself. I don’t care if you’re fine being a wimp but don’t act like it while pretending to be me.”

Smoothing out his expression, Ren gives a nod to show his understanding. “I will try.”

“Don’t just try, do something about it.” Mink is seriously getting irritated by all this dallying. Why is he even wasting his breath on this guy? He’s no life-lesson dispenser but seeing that lost look on his own face reminded him of dark times, before righteous anger took root and skewed his vision. He had known that feeling intimately so he supposes it’s because he’d hate to wear that expression again that he’s dealing with Ren. Glancing back at the… taller... man (god damn it), a vein ticks in Mink’s temple at seeing Ren still stalling. “What is it now?”

“I am being obedient.”

“Obedient?” Mink cocks a brow. “What did I just tell you?”

Ren’s kicked-puppy look returns, much to Mink’s chagrin. “I understand your intentions but in light of… personal problems… I deem it better to remain here.”

“Personal problems?” Mink parrots, his frown deepening at the bitter tone used.

“I… yes.” Ren’s admission comes with a disheartened sigh.

From across the room divider, they hear a chirpy “Noiz-san!” followed by some scuffling over cushion seats. Clear has always been a cheerful guy, and though he’d been worryingly glum recently, right now he’s positively brimming with enthusiasm despite their odd situation. It makes Ren wonder if there is any significant link to that and the fact that he woke up in Mink’s body sharing bedspace with Clear cocooned in his arms.

Mink shakes his head as Noiz gives some disgruntled retort to Clear’s attempts at “working together.” It still irks him to leave their recovery in the hands of the maniac but… Mink bites his tongue, the only place on Noiz’ body that transmits any sort of tactile feeling. It’s disorienting with its piercings, infinitely grating on his nerves (ironically, enough; Mink can sort of see why the kid is so grumpy all the time.) Despite that setback, Noiz’ information-gathering skills have proven to be an invaluable asset, so maybe Mink ought to give the guy some - no, a lot of credit. In the meantime, the least he could do is not be a bother.

With a great huff, Mink takes to the couch right outside the actual tattoo parlor. Surprisingly (or maybe not) Ren opts to follow and sits right beside him. Too close beside him, in fact. Mink acknowledges Ren with a grunt that doubles as a warning for the man to stop his fidgeting.

Ren purses his lips, as if solidifying his resolve. “I have a personal question to ask, if you wouldn’t mind…” A slight nod from the other allows him to proceed. “You are in a relationship with Clear, correct?”

Another nod, albeit a hesitant one.

“How--” Here, Ren pauses, looking for the proper word. “--do you keep him satisfied? Sexually.” He adds, fearing a misinterpretation of his question.

Mink had no way to dodge that bullet. Despite gaining a physical form only last year (in ways that not even Aoba has sufficiently explained) Ren is far from being childlike in appearance and thought. The depth of his relationship with Aoba came as a surprise to no one. But this? This is not something Mink is anywhere close to being comfortable with discussing. He stares at Ren.

Ren stares back.

Despite his predispositions, Mink could sense an odd simmering sensation over his cheeks that he supposes is a symptom of blushing. Is he blushing? He finds it hard to maintain eye contact, tempted (but not really) to curse Ren for being so earnest. It’s not like he and Clear have been exceedingly intimate. Their relationship is more of Clear orbiting his person -- bright yellow scarf like a comet’s tail that brightens the murky atmosphere --  and Mink not realizing the man’s impact until he was suddenly gone, leaving everything dim. That said, he is very much inexperienced with the sort of interpersonal connection that Clear asks of him, hence their dire disagreement a week before. But he’s learning, thanks to Clear’s abundant patience, so wouldn’t it be selfish of him to keep it all to himself?

Clearing his throat to start, Mink levels Ren with a look that hopefully conceals his own uncertainties with the matter at hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with your situation first?” is his cautious response. The serious expression on his own face worries him, makes him overthink how dire the situation might be and if he even wants to hear it out now. Because heaven help him if this kid tells him he can’t get it up --

Damn it. No. Mink bites his tongue to derail that train of thought.

“Ah.” Ren purses his lips, casting a worried glance over at the divider that separates their space from where Noiz and Clear are situated. He doesn’t want the entire world to know about his problem so it’s probably best to modulate his voice. Turning back to Mink, Ren senses that the other man’s patience is wearing thin so he forges ahead and says -- “I can’t stop making love to Aoba.” Dark eyes meet bright green and Ren pretty much word vomits. “I love Aoba so we do it all the time but lately he doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. He tells me he wants to do me and I’ll agree but every time we get to it, I can’t help myself. I flip us over and start doing him myself. Now Aoba is angry at me. Very angry. Please help me. I only want to make Aoba happy.”

“................” That simmering heat just blazed into a wildfire that covers his entire face. Mink is not sure if he’s embarrassed or mad or both.

“Please, Mink.”

A pierced brow ticks. Mink takes a deep breath and lets it out in a stuttering exhale. That’s already too much about Aoba’s private life than he ever cares to know but since he technically asked for it, the only thing to do now is to offer his promised advice. "... Well, the first thing you should do is apologize for all those times you pushed his attempts aside.”

Ren sits up straighter, listening intently. Mink catches his unflinching gaze and quickly looks away but he continues speaking.

“If you really hold such strong feelings for him…”

“I do,” Ren is quick to confirm.

“Then you'd learn to control yourself,” Mink continues in all seriousness. He speaks lowly, meaning every word because, in a way, these are the self-same ideas that he needs to remember. “Learn to listen and find satisfaction in whatever he wants to do with you... or to you.” Ren shifts uncomfortably in his seat, making Mink frown further. “You say you can’t help yourself? I think you’re just being selfish.”

“Aoba got used to spoiling your cute little Allmate form, so even now he is conditioned to give you anything and everything that you want but a man has his limits.” He can almost see the lightbulb turning on above Ren’s head and Mink gives himself a mental pat on the back. “You should apologize to him.”

At this, Ren straightens up, looking very determined. “Apologize. Yes. I can do that right now.”

Mink is thankful when Ren gets up but he needs something from him before he leaves. “Oi. Hand me that case inside the right pocket.”

Stalled, Ren rummages inside Mink’s coat and pulls out a rectangular object made of leather and metal. A strong smell emanates from it and Ren wrinkles his nose. “What is this?”

“I need a smoke,” Mink says shortly, reaching for his tobacco case but Ren holds it away.

“That’s bad for your health,” Ren admonishes, gripping the case tighter as a precaution should Mink make a grab for it. “And you’re in Noiz’ body, too.”

‘You should be more considerate~’ Mink hears the advice echo in his head in a tone reminiscent of Clear’s pleading. He shakes away the odd feeling. “Fine. Give me the other thing,” Mink demands, pointing to the left-hand pocket.

Ren cautiously reaches into the other pocket, surprised to get a pack of gum. A whole pack in bright red packaging with a light pink sticker slapped on. The scribble on it reads: For Mink-san, coupled with doodles of smiling cartoon jellyfish. He takes a sniff just to be sure, eyes widening at the strong smell of cinnamon that floods his nose. Must be where that insistent smell from this morning has come from, Ren deduces. Finding no harm in letting the man have some gum, Ren hands it over only for the box to clatter at the floor. Both men wordlessly stare down at it.

“Tsk.” Mink is almost certain that he had the item in his grasp just now but it’s clear that managing this body takes a lot of getting used to. He bends to pick it up when a more familiar hand wraps around the pale limb he has extended. Bright eyes flick over at Ren to find a small smile curled at the corner of his lips.

"Thank you for the advice, Mink," Ren says, straightening up and holding Noiz' hand tight with both of Mink's, the pack of gum sandwiched between them. "I will do my best to repair my relationship with Aoba."

"...You do that," Mink replies, feeling rather odd as he stares at his physical body. He grips the gum box tighter until Ren lets go and moves away, head held high with purpose.


	9. Noiz & Clear

Noiz narrows his eyes at the display screen, the pseudo bunny at the corner alerts him that the previous file he’d given them to translate has been completed. Faced with the odd wordings on the vial’s tag, Noiz started with defining them and then expanding his search from there.

_Philtre d'amour,_ as it turns out, is French for ‘Love Potion.’ Exactly as it says on the tin, Noiz notes with dry humor before looking up counter-potions. He didn’t even believe in all the hocus pocus of such concoctions but waking up in another’s body certainly defied all attempts to reason it out. So now he’s manically trying to find a way to reverse it, vehemently glaring at the photos of simpering couples on the webpages that promised him information. More often than not, however, he exits the sites with a deeper scowl than the one he’d been wearing before he ventured in -- Damn bartenders and their ‘special party mixes.’ The love potions advertised are probably nowhere near the same caliber as the one he’d ingested, Noiz knows this but the urge to leave scathing reviews on the recipes only grows with every new search that pops up. (And this is not counting the _other_ web ads popping up and pimping ‘hot singles’ in his area.) Worst part is, he can’t afford to skip any of these damned results because who knows if the real deal is just hiding among these fake reproductions.

Switching to a different screen, he’s faced with a parchment-like background and stencil illustrations on the side. The heavy-handed script is overlaid with kanji characters for easier understanding of the whole group should he deem this worthy to present to them. He skims over the introduction and gets right into the meat of the text -- proper combinations of aphrodisiacs (which Noiz bookmarks for, uh, future reference); prescribed dosage (he wonders how potent the tiny vial’s content must have been to produce such a drastic outcome); effects (at this point, Noiz grows disheartened when the list doesn’t mention body-switches); and finally, a warning: _There is no known universal cure as of the writing of this book. Drinkers must take caution until such a time that the effects have worn off._

“That’s it?” Noiz swipes his finger, dragging the page upwards but it remains obstinate. “We’re just going to _woof_ -ing wait it out?!”

“Now, now Noiz-san, don’t give up~”

A vein ticks on Noiz’ forehead, hidden by snow white bangs and the gasmask over his face. Clear is wearing Aoba’s smile and, more than anything, it grates on Noiz’ nerves. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

Clear’s mood doesn’t sway a bit, merely blinking in response to the irate question thrown at him. “I’m supposed to help find information but I’m not really sure how since Noiz-san seems to have everything under control.” He pauses, smile shrinking for a second before he perks up again. “I know~ Does Noiz-san want a relaxing massage?”

“No,” Noiz quickly dismisses and turns back to his work. The last thing he wants is someone touching him right now. Clear wasn’t kidding when he claimed that he had good hearing -- every clink of shot glasses, the drunken ramblings, and even Ren’s embarrassing plight is no secret to him. It seems that distance and barriers hold no consequence to this superhuman ability. He hears Koujaku’s confession as if it’s being whispered right into his ear, heavy emotion seeping into his skin. It’s all too much, too distracting, too --

Warm.

Noiz isn’t sure how he knows that feeling but more importantly, there are hands covering his ears; Aoba’s hands in particular. He looks up and the barlights look like a halo around the man’s head.

“Sorry,” Clear apologizes in that unfaltering gentle tone. “It must be very inconvenient, occupying a body like mine.” He rubs a thumb behind his left ear, feeling for the controls to adjust his auditory functions.

“...” Noiz lets Clear do his thing, recognizing the volume decrease once the other has stepped away.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Noiz reaches for the place that Clear’s touch had just vacated, the whir of machinery more evidently coming from within now. Amber orbs are reflected in glass eyepieces and Noiz senses trepidation from the other man. “This body is a lot more convenient than you’d think,” he mutters, voice muffled due to the mask covering his face.

Clear blinks, uncomprehending.

“It’s not the worst body I could’ve been stuck in,” Noiz clarifies, but even that doesn’t seem to have made it through. So instead, he goes with, “Do you mind if I take this off?” His hands position themselves at the edges of the gasmask.

For the first time, Clear’s expression deviates from its bright and eager disposition. The look on Aoba’s face now is akin to the one he’d worn when Noiz abruptly kissed him that time in Junk Shop Mediocrity -- looking scandalized but not entirely averse to the concept. Noiz waits him out until, finally, Clear nods.

“O-Okay.”

Slipping off the mask, Noiz takes a big gulp of air, noting the lack of reaction from his current body as the final proof. At Clear’s anxious look, he says, “I think I understand why you keep this on, now.”

Concern knits Aoba’s brows together. “It’s because I’m different from everyone else.”

“Everyone is different from everyone else,” Noiz tells him matter-of-factly, setting the gasmask aside. “It’s how they act towards others’ differences that actually means anything.”

Clear feels a pounding in Aoba’s chest, much different from the creak of cogs and gears that he is used to. He absorbs the words, repeats them in his head to retain their meaning. Looking back, he finds Noiz to be running more searches on the holographic screens, a determined aura surrounding him. Again, Clear can’t help that feeling of otherness but if Noiz thinks he’s not all that different… _Mink, too_ , a small hopeful voice reminds him and Clear nods to himself. Mink didn’t flinch when he finally revealed his face last night; Mink’s large hands cupped his cheeks instead, brushing his bangs away so those deep soulful eyes can see all of him.

He remembers the tender brush of Mink’s thumb under his lips, pressing slightly over the two moles on his chin. A faint smirk pulled at Mink’s expression and Clear felt trepidation. Mink had drunk plenty back at Mizuki’s bar and though he claimed that he wasn’t entirely inebriated -- proving it when he drove them back to Scratch HQ on his motorcycle _without_ crashing or breaking road laws -- Clear wasn’t entirely convinced. He was just about to point out that Mink’s face is oddly flushed when the taller man spoke.

“You are a caring one,” Mink had said, rubbing that same spot on his chin. His voice sounded deeper, and though it holds no power like his master’s, Clear is drawn to it all the same. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever spare such feelings for me--”

Clear started shaking his head, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. He couldn’t allow such misconceptions to stand. “Don’t be like that! Mink-san is very loveable!”

Mink chuckled and then leaned into him. Clear froze, not quite knowing what to do until he felt Mink’s lips touch upon the beauty marks on his skin. Heat crawled up his face in the same slow movement that took Mink’s gaze up from his lips to meet his eyes.

A sigh of “Mink-san…” signified Clear’s consent and Mink kissed him soundly. The solid press of their lips made him feel truly alive in that shared moment.

His mouth curls into a smile now, remembering how nice it was to see Mink’s face up close without the barrier of glass and rubber between them. To be able to caress and feel that same touch returned.

Noiz exits another useless page, frustration creeping up on his cool demeanor. The pseudo rabbit onscreen suggests alternative search terms and Noiz clicks one, renewing his search for a cure to their situation. He doesn’t want to get used to this. For all his snark and bite, the rough handling he gave and received, he couldn’t say no when Koujaku asked to hold him last night. He barely felt it though the sentiment isn’t lost on him. Problem is, the longer he stays in Clear’s body, with all its fully-functional sensors, the more he thinks about actually experiencing that -- being held close, touched gently, finally being receptive to people’s -- Koujaku’s -- affection. Long-harbored vexations latch onto those thoughts, twisting and tearing at them until Noiz convinces himself that he’s better off not indulging those daydreams now and then missing them for the rest of his life.

So it’s no surprise when he tenses, gasps, feeling warm hands on his shoulders, pressing at the spot just below his nape. Noiz shoots Clear a dirty look. That’s the second time now that the man has touched him without preamble, but Clear merely smiles. His yellow scarf falls limply onto the sofa seat.

“What are you doing?” Noiz grits out, body too-easily succumbing to the calming ministrations.

“Noiz-san looks like he’s having a hard time, so I’m giving him a massage,” Clear answers brightly. Even though they both know that Clear’s physical form is far from common, intimate familiarity with his own body makes it easy for Clear to pick out the spots that make him feel most human.

Noiz grumbles because despite his staunch logic, there is no denying how good it feels. Clear’s grip is unrelenting but his tone is lax, simulating the state he’s determined to bring Noiz into.

A giggle escapes him when Noiz stops resisting and finally allows him to continue his massage in peace. “Mink-san doesn’t like unexpected things, too, you know,” Clear fills in the silence. “So I’m glad that he’s dealing with our situation so calmly… Talking with Ren-san would really help him connect and be friends with everyone, especially after all we’ve been through in Oval Tower.”

Wispy white lashes flutter over porcelain skin. Try as he might, Noiz never could just ignore the events of that fateful day and the consequences that followed. The only reason for his cooperation was to get a rematch  but seeing Aoba fall apart despite their apparent success dissuaded him from collecting on that debt. Besides, he has found a more viable source of entertainment by then, someone who was more than willing to punch his lights out. Now if only things had stayed that way and didn’t escalate to--

“You’re doing very well, Noiz-san,” Clear compliments, unaware of the thought process he’d just interrupted. “It’s nice that you’re getting along better with Koujaku-san these days.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Noiz hisses, cracking open one eye.

“Ehh~ Why not?” Clear leans over so Noiz can see his very adorable pout. “Koujaku-san talks about you a lot.”

That only serves to pull Noiz’ frown deeper, muttering, “Trying out his new lame insults, probably.”

“Oh no no nonono no~!” Clear squeezes a little too tight, making Noiz cringe for which the former quickly apologizes. Adjusting his hold on the tense shoulders, Clear continues, “Koujaku-san was really worried about you this morning. He kept saying that you’d probably kil -- um, do very bad things to him when you woke up and he wasn’t there.”

“Tsch.” Waking up next to somebody is a rarity for Noiz but for some reason his brain supplied him with the idea that those were Koujaku’s arms around him this morning. Worse is how readily he accepted it only for that feeble hope to be swallowed by the same black hole that consumed his insides once reality hit. His disappointment on that simple matter is a good enough gauge of how treacherous his own mind has become. Noiz stiffly faces forward, refusing to let his reactions be detected.

Clear sighs at the other’s attempt. “No need to hide your feelings, Noiz-san, we’re all friends here~”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Noiz insists, giving the holographic keyboard a tap that’s a bit harder than necessary.

“But you’re always looking so serious!” Clear exclaims, coaxing the answer out with a squeeze at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He’d found the receptors there to be particularly sensitive last night and he hopes they’ll aid him in wringing a confession out of his body’s current occupant. “It’s kind of hard to tell if you’re sad or happy.”

His back arches off the couch, shivers running his spine. Noiz stops breathing for a second as the sensation registers. It’s unusual, invasive even, and he stubbornly keeps his ground. “I don’t care,” Noiz scoffs but it sounds more like he’s sulking. His emotions are showing through and he thinks it’s tied to this freely expressive persona that he’s adapting to. That... and the fact that he’s stuck getting chatted up by the biggest optimist this side of the Pacific, who also happens to be the original owner of this body. The sum of it all makes Noiz barely able to hold himself together.

Clear leans in a closer, earnest as ever. “A little smile can go miles, Noiz-san~ And if you smiled more often, people will like you a lot more, too!”

Noiz’ bottom lip quivers. He has tried and tested ways to get people to notice him - not _like him_ , mind you. Just to notice him because up until now Noiz never really had a reason to be liked, especially not in that way. It has always been enough to be noticed when it was convenient, when it served some purpose for him -- a drive-by, a street brawl -- but aside from those things, being wanted is something of a drawback more than anything. Noiz has always believed that he doesn’t need such trivialities and yet--

“Koujaku-san might like a hug or two~”

The train of thought chugging through his mind comes to an abrupt halt. Noiz finally breaks his stoic stance and shoots Clear a glare over his shoulder. “Now you just wait a _ribbit_ -ing minute -- who said anything about that guy?! This has nothing to do with--” He stops, unnerved by Clear’s growing smile. It’s one part understanding, one part amusement, like Clear knows something he doesn’t.

“Some gentle words and actions every now and then should do the trick,” Clear continues merrily, as if Noiz’ outburst didn’t just give everything away.

“Why would I even…” The defense dies in his throat, unable to bear the unbridled elation that Clear brings with him when he finally moves around the couch and sits right next to him. Noiz fails to maintain his glare.

“It’s okay, Noiz-san, this can be our little secret,” Clear whispers connivingly, rewrapping the yellow scarf around his neck.

Noiz stares at Clear some more, looking past Aoba’s facial features and into the soul that’s trapped within. Clear isn’t as innocent as he looks, Noiz has to remind himself. And while he may act like a ditz most of the time, he has just shown that his heart is in the right place. “I don’t know what’s this ‘gentle’ thing you’re talking about,” Noiz begins, careful and a little coy. “Koujaku certainly wanted it rough last night.”

Clear gasps, actually _gasps_ , and Aoba’s amber eyes look like they’re glowing. Excitement thrums through his veins and Clear gives in, hugging Noiz’ (technically, his own) arm in joy. He broke through!

Noiz coughs, vainly trying to cover up his blush. He focuses on his web search, not looking at the man who is practically nuzzling into his shoulder. The webpage loads, showing a brief animation of a bright pink cocktail swirling into hearts. Noiz peruses the page but his attention falters halfway, eyes not moving even as he keeps scrolling to the bottom. Finally, he looks sideways to find Clear staring expectantly up at him.

_Ah, damn._ Noiz wets his lips. “...Do you really think that would work on that crusty old man?”

Being exposed to Mink’s statuesque character makes dealing with everyone else’s stiff attitudes much easier, in Clear’s opinion, but Noiz in particular is very easy to crack. The feelings are all there, Clear finds. The blond just has to acknowledge them and find a healthier way of expressing them. “Oh, Noiz-san~” Clear sighs. “Everyone appreciates being held gently or complimented honestly every now and then~ I’m sure Koujaku-san will love you even more for it~”

Noiz’ lips twitch indecisively so Clear opts to add more ammo. “Though that also means you have to lay off the insults, okay?”

White brows furrow as Noiz weighs the suggestion.

“Insulting someone would give them the wrong message,” Clear says emphatically. “And it’s not sexy unless they specifically say that they want to be called a dirty little cumsl-” He puts his hands over his mouth, cheeks turning red. “Oh dear.”

Noiz bursts out laughing, the tears he’d been holding back finally falling in joy. He sniffles, attempting to reign in his composure but his smile remains. “Who would’ve thought you had it in you?” he jests.

Seeing that reaction, Clear lowers his hands. “That wasn’t… Ah, I didn’t expect to say that aloud.” Clear blushes some more, his auto-sensor function usually covered up the nasty words he picks up but now he realizes that some situations call for… less than proper language.

“And to think you’re the one supposedly schooling me on self-expression,” Noiz chuckles.

Clear is about to defend himself some more but that open look on Noiz’ (well, his own) face stops him. “You’re smiling!”

Hearing that, Noiz sobers up almost immediately.

“Noo~ Don’t hide now, Noiz-san,” Clear implores. “You have such a nice smile! So if you want to laugh or cry or hold somebody tight, you should just do it~ It will make you feel so much better!”

An odd warmth sparks in his chest. Noiz can’t quite explain how it’s possible knowing Clear’s physiology as he does but it feels good. Another sniffle escapes and before he knows it, Clear has pulled him into a hug.

The heartwarming moment is cut short when a distressed cry comes from the other side of the room.

“Noiz! Noiz, I have something to --”

“I’m not Noiz!”

“I should’ve told you--”

“I said I’m not -- You stay away from me, oi!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter coming up next ;D


	10. Happy Hour

The curtain parts but neither man notice it until a polite cough comes from behind them.

Aoba looks up, squinting. “Mink?”

“Ren,” the looming man corrects.

“Ren!” Aoba starts, quickly straightening himself. He feels bad for not recognizing Ren in Mink’s body in spite of their gripping reunion earlier. Then again, he has kind of lost track of things with how much alcohol he has consumed… Koujaku certainly drank more than him, in any case.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” Ren intones.

“It’s alright.” Koujaku’s voice sounds heavier as he tips the bottle, bottoms up.  “Ahh. We were just about done, anyway…” He wipes his mouth on Ren’s armwarmer, missing the tightening of Mink’s mien at the action. “Did something happen?” he asks, setting the empty bottle aside.

“Um, no…” Ren gets a pang of self-consciousness, remembering that Aoba had told him to help out but then he got sidetracked. They’re probably expecting him to be the bearer of good news. “Noiz and Clear are still working on the cure. I’m... I’m here because I need to talk to Aoba.”

Koujaku and Aoba look at each other, some unspoken understanding passing between the two before the former nods and stands up. It’s a miracle that Koujaku manages to stay upright given how he has cleanly finished off a 100 proof bottle of whiskey. Clearly being friends with a bartender has its benefits. “Right then,” Koujaku declares, looking between the two with a growing smile. “You two sort things out.” He nods to himself, proud at having given sage advice. Making his way to the door, Koujaku pats Mink-Ren’s shoulder for good measure and throws a thumbs-up at Aoba just before he reaches the divider.

“Come sit.” Aoba pats the spot Koujaku just vacated, offering a smile.

Navigating the much larger body into the sofa seat, Ren folds his hands on his lap. “I don’t think it was wise for you to drink,” Ren reveals,  facing Aoba with a worried look. The smell of alcohol is heavier down here.

“It was only a little,” Aoba replies even as his cheeks flush darker. Mink’s face is _not_ made for the puppy dog eyes. When Ren doesn’t have an immediate response, Aoba decides to go with, “I’m sorry.”

Mink’s expression eases then and he takes Koujaku’s hands. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Ren says, a mantra that both of them know by heart. Aoba relays his understanding by gripping Mink’s hands equally tight and Ren lets out a relieved breath. Now that they’ve resolved _that_ issue, Ren decides to address the _real_ reason why he dropped by. “Aoba…”

He knows that tone, knows it by the way it slows his heartbeats and chases away all trivial thoughts from his head. It’s the voice of Restraint, one that has looked after him as long as he could remember. Aoba knows this voice intimately, knows that whatever it is that Ren will say next, it’s something that Aoba cannot afford to miss.

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Ren delivers his apology with utmost sincerity. “I have been taking advantage of your love. I have been selfish and greedy and I… because of that I.... I’ve hurt you.”

“Ren…” Aoba tries to free his hands in order to cup the other man’s face but Ren maintains that steadfast hold, shaking his head to dissuade Aoba from further interrupting him.

“I want to be better for you,” Ren continues. “I’ll do anything to make it better for both of us…”

“Ren, calm down.” Aoba’s tone is gentle, soothing. “Everything is okay.”

“No, it isn’t!”

The sudden bite in Ren’s retort stuns the both of them. Mink’s hands ease off Koujaku’s as Ren deflates. “You’ve taken good care of me, Aoba,” Ren speaks lowly, eyes trained on his lap. Mink’s words ring inside his head. “And it… made me so happy. I want to always, always show you how much I love you but lately… I’ve noticed that I wasn’t making you happy anymore.”

Aoba’s light-hearted mien falls and he worries his bottom lip. “What are you talking about?”

“When I can’t… control myself,” Ren forces out the confession. “I know that it’s not fair that I always top… and I know that I’m not being cooperative when it’s your turn so…”

“So, what?” Aoba prompts, noting how this is exactly what Koujaku had advised earlier -- that he and Ren talk out their issues. He feels immense relief that he isn’t the one to bring up the conversation, that Ren has come to act on his own accord.

A deep breath. Ren lifts his gaze to look at Aoba through Koujaku’s red eyes. “Next time, I will definitely bottom.”

Aoba blinks, not expecting Ren to actually say it out loud. And with such conviction, too. He purses his lips, because while this is exactly what he’s wanted… “You don’t have to force yourself, Ren.”

“But… I’m the one who keeps forcing myself on--” Ren halts when Koujaku’s hand settles on the top of his head. “...Aoba?”

“Okay. If you’re really decided then who am I to object?” the shorter man proclaims, gaze soft as he regards Mink’s dark eyes. “Next time, I’ll be the one making love to Ren.”

Hearing that, Ren perks up and nods. “A-and if I end up protesting, you… you should be stricter, okay?”

“Stricter,” Aoba repeats, the cogs in his head turning. He makes to ruffle Ren’s hair (as he is wont to do when feeling particularly pleased) but the dreadlocks on Mink’s head isn’t as… conducive to the petting. Taking care to conceal his dejection at the lost opportunity, Aoba retracts his hand and finds the angry red marks around Koujaku’s wrist once more. A slow grin creeps up on his lips, budding excitement filling his bones with a tingling sensation. “I can do strict!”

* * *

It’s brighter outside the tattoo parlor, homey-er, Koujaku thinks. There’s a pleasant haze in his mind that has suffused his indignance and overall displeasure at the entire body-swap situation. He is calm and collected. His talk with Aoba just now has assured him that the Noiz Situation (as he has come to think of it in his mind) not only has a cool-sounding name but is also tipping in his favor.

Koujaku is so sure of it now. The itch under his skin urging him to lay his hands on the blond is evidently meant to invoke a different kind of handling than what first comes to mind. Though Noiz can certainly take a beating (and here Koujaku swallows bile, remembering how roughly he has treated the brat before he knew better), Koujaku definitely liked him better when he was taking it up the -- _Ah_. There he is.

“Noiz!” The name escapes Koujaku, surprised to find the blond so soon. An excited whisper in his ear tells him _it must be fate_. The sight of Noiz in his old yukata stretches his grin wider, giddiness thumping with every heartbeat. A gravitational pull urges him to move and there’s a spring in his step when he does.  “Noiz, I have something to --”

“I’m not Noiz!”

The man on the couch is shooting him an annoyed look but all Koujaku can think about is the pretty color of Noiz’ eyes, flashing a lively green as they flick over to him. He navigates around the furniture, undeterred.  “I should’ve told you--”

“I said I’m not--” Noiz jumps up from his seat just as Koujaku slides in beside him, an arm outstretched in an attempt to reel him in. “You stay away from me, oi!”

Koujaku’s vivacity dims at the response. Noiz… really isn’t the easiest person to deal with, after all, but if he doesn’t persist then nothing will ever come of this. And Koujaku _really, really_ wants his happily ever after. (Because, hell, if _Mink_ gets his prince-in-a-gasmask-and-a-yellow-scarf, then why can’t Koujaku get his own fashionably-challenged beau?) “You don’t mean that,” Koujaku insists, a little hurt seeping into his eyes. He extends a hand to catch Noiz’ wrist and get him back on the couch but Noiz only backs away further.

“I’m serious, you idiot,” Noiz grits out, full-on glaring now. “I’m Mink. Stuck in this too-small body.”

“Mink…?”

“ _Yes._ ”

 

Mink looks ready to pop a blood vessel when Koujaku looks up at him like he’d just cancelled Christmas. It works too well with Ren’s disposition for kicked-puppy expressions and he bites down hard on the wad of gum in his mouth; not even the taste of cinnamon is working to curb his homicidal tendencies right now.

“Then… Then where’s Noiz?” Koujaku asks, then his pitiful lovestruck demeanor changes. As though something just clicked in his head, Ren’s incisors are suddenly bared, golden eyes hooded with imminent danger. “What did you do to him?”

Sensing the threat, and never being one to back down from a fight, Mink stands his ground. He sniffs, noticing some odd addition to the air. _Alcohol_. Mink narrows his eyes at Koujaku, finding the flush on Ren’s pale cheeks. Inwardly, he groans, asking the heavens for eternal patience because Ren is the last person who deserves to have their face punched in.

“I didn’t do anything,” he says, steady as a boulder, staring down the man who is apparently drunk. “Or are you forgetting that it’s your good friend _Mizuki_ who landed us in this mess?”

Koujaku’s expression falters and Mink takes the opportunity to snatch him up before he can get back on his ridiculous tangent. Forced onto his feet, Koujaku stumbles after the shorter man, spluttering his indignance. Just as he finally gets his throat to work, Mink comes to a halt and Koujaku’s focus centers on not tripping over his own two feet.

“There!” Mink declares. “There’s your damn boyfriend.”

Ren’s face swivels to follow the hand Mink has thrown out. Seated on the couch are Clear and Aoba, holographic screens hovering before them, the latter’s arm loosely linked around Clear’s neck as they stare right back. Koujaku looks from the pair to the blond beside him. “But… _you’re_ Noiz,” he tells the yukata-clad Rhymer.

 

Clear picks up on the misunderstanding and quickly pulls his hands away and gives Noiz a meaningful look.

At the wordless urge, Noiz steels himself and turns towards the other two. He’s not quite sure what face he’s wearing but the sniffle just before his words come out is a huge tell. “ _I’m_ Noiz, you idiot.”

“Eh?”

Noiz watches his physical body drag the confused Koujaku-in-Ren’s-person to the forefront; _throws_ him, more like. It gives Noiz an odd satisfaction to witness the suave lady killer fumble and it’s no surprise, knowing that Koujaku had been drinking from Mizuki’s secret stash before this; Ren’s body doesn’t have nearly the same alcohol tolerance that Koujaku is used to. No one else could be _that_ dense to actually forget their entire situation over a bottle of whisky. Not for the first time, Noiz questions himself on why he’s even drawn to the man.

“Koujaku-san...”

“A-Aoba?” Koujaku squints at his best friend’s figure. “I was just talking to you back in the…”

“Ah, no, I’m afraid not.” Clear regards the man with saint-like calm. “We  all switched bodies, remember?”

“We did…?” Koujaku looks down at his hands, gasps, and then pins Mink with a wide-eyed stare. “Then you’re really not…”

“No.” Mink keeps his fists by his side to avoid strangling the incessant fool.

Koujaku’s gaze then lands squarely on Clear who is apparently “... _Noiz_.” Pink eyes flash at him before darting back to the Coil screens but there’s no hiding the distinct puffiness that surrounds them. “Noiz!” Koujaku exclaims once he’s made the connections, stepping closer with a much more serious demeanor.

“I _know_ my own name, old man. Don’t wear it out,” Noiz says testily, growing wary as Koujaku comes nearer. He feels some shifting beside him, turning only to find that Koujaku has taken up Clear’s previous position.

“Why are you crying?” Koujaku asks, brows arched in worry. “Are you hurt somewhere? Should I call an ambulance?”

“ _What_?”

Clear makes himself scarce, backing away as Noiz and Koujaku brew up another love quarrel. He ends up standing beside Mink who’s watching the scene unfold with crossed arms and a distinctly unimpressed glare.

“Stop smothering me,” Noiz cries, leaning away when Koujaku reaches out to touch him.

“But Noiz!” Koujaku’s tone grows just a tad frustrated. He cradles Clear’s face with both hands, idly noting their porcelain smoothness. “If someone hurt you, I can’t just let that slide. Tell me who did it.”

The other man’s tone carries steel-backed determination but the touch of hands on his cheeks are tender. Noiz looks away from the passionate soul that’s close to bursting from the depths Ren’s amber gaze. _Koujaku is…_ His proximity drives the machinations in Clear’ chest to whirr faster, insides steaming hotly. So before he sends this body into overdrive, Noiz resigns himself to voicing out the truth. “You did.”

The intensity of Koujaku’s mien falters, softens as he holds his breath trying to process the blond’s revelation.

Noiz has seen that face before, just once, but it has already burned itself into his mind. The sight of it now dredges up memories that only serve to keep the gears inside this body whirring, spinning faster. Koujaku’s hold becomes more secure, more certain, as a soft smile graces his lips. And Noiz knows that that look is meant only for him. It makes something ache in his very core.

“Y-You keep giving me all these * _chirping_ * _feelings_ ,” Noiz spits out, defensive and with no better way to relieve himself of the vice that’s burdening his internal processes. “And it scares me and it thrills me that I’d do most anything just to get you to notice it, to respond. Then you did. Last night. But then this morning -- Now you’re here but _I’m_ wrong and _you’re_ wrong and I just want…”

It’s a shame that Noiz’ statement ends up trailing off without a proper conclusion. Then again, the man is heaving, lips trembling from the avalanche of words and emotions. Koujaku has heard all that he needs to hear and now he’s feeling infinitely better, mind clearer than it’s ever been. It’s exhilarating to finally know what the other truly thinks of their convoluted relationship, even greater is that Koujaku knows exactly how to work his way around it. Still, it would be preferable if Noiz stops crying right about now. “Will it help if I kiss it better?”

“No!” Noiz tries to wriggle away but the hands cupping his face are steady despite his squirming. Thumbs brush away the tears welling at the corner of his eyes and Noiz shudders at the intimacy of it.

“But, you said that I hurt you,” Koujaku says, sliding closer with an adoring look upon him. “The obvious solution is to let me help fix my wrongs, right?” A minute nod comes and Koujaku leans ever closer until their noses are brushing. “Let me kiss you, Noiz.”

* * *

Mizuki is ever so glad that he listened to that door to door salesman and had CCTV installed in his bar. Not only did it serve to minimize everything from theft to shady drug deals inside his reputable establishment, it has also proven itself useful now in what is conceivably the worst case scenario. Death threat notwithstanding, Mizuki fears that even Black Needle wouldn’t be spared should his friends finally snap. He doubts that his insurance would cover half the damage those men are bound to unleash. That’s why Mizuki has sent out orders for every Dry Juice member to search the entire island for the missing shopkeeper who sold him the love potion.

Making a quick sketch of what the lady had looked like in his recollections, Mizuki e-mailed it to his entire Rib team with strict orders to immediately report any clue they find. A trusted handful have been stationed outside Black Needle to report any suspicious sounds in the event that the guys resort to thrashing his place but so far… things have been calm. Or sort of.

There’s a security room in the building where Black Needle is leased, it houses stacks of TVs that broadcast the CCTV stream from all the tenants and Mizuki is friends with the head of guards. (It really pays to have the good guy image sometimes.) The room is situated in the same basement, convenient enough to allow Mizuki to run over to his shop should chaos befall it but still spaced far enough that he was able to come in undetected by Mink’s Allmate that’s been flying about. In spite of his rather comfy position, Mizuki is still at the edge of his seat.

For one thing, Ren had the freaking _gall_ to steal from his secret whiskey stash. Mizuki didn’t even _know_ that Ren _knew_ about that hiding spot, much less that he drinks like a pro. Then Mizuki has to remind himself that these people aren’t who they seem to be. One look at Koujaku’s _Noiz-inspired_ outfit is akin to being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water.

Speaking of Noiz, he looks to be schooling Mink with a barrage of insults just outside the tattoo parlor. Too bad the CCTV stream doesn’t carry audio. Mizuki would give (most) anything to hear what the Rhymer has said to make Scratch’s main man cower like that.

With a flick of the remote, Mizuki’s vantage point shifts to where Clear and Aoba are huddled in front of digital Coil screens. It spells nothing out of the ordinary… that is until Aoba starts giving Clear a massage and then Clear takes off his gasmask.

Mizuki stares. An odd mix of fascination and worry filling him up as Clear’s expression morphs into sadness and Aoba moves to wrap him up in an embrace. At this, Mizuki feels a stab of guilt. What if Clear’s tears are his doing? It’s not entirely a stretch of the imagination to figure that the albino is moved to crying because of the situation that he landed them in.

Worrying his bottom lip, Mizuki sits back and checks for an update on his Coil. His men have scouted the southern and western districts but their luck seems even scarcer as they move up north. He shudders to think what would happen if they don’t find the shopkeeper. Mizuki sends another mass message, asking for updates, stressing the urgency of the situation. Some of them call him back to report but it’s all the same -- “Sorry, we haven’t found her yet but we’ll keep looking, boss.”

Movement from the screen catches his attention. Mizuki looks up and nearly falls out of his seat.

Is that… Clear and Ren? Kissing?

Mizuki rubs his eyes and stares harder but the image doesn’t change.

Then the oddest thing happens.

It’s only a brief flicker of static across the screen, distorting the feed for maybe a second at most. But Mizuki’s eyes are keen, he catches the fleeting mirage of a pale, smiling face and his hands slam on to the table. Mizuki gets on his feet, the chair he’d been occupying thrown back. Wide eyes are glued to the screen which now shows Clear and Ren breaking apart.

But Mizuki’s less concerned about who’s kissing who when he’d just found his answer.

He looks at the paper under his palms, a graphite rendition is smiling back up at him, exactly how he remembers it that night. That face on the TV just now… That was…

 _The shopkeeper_.

* * *

Noiz’ fists are clenched tightly, a vein ticking on his forehead. Clear can feel the deathly aura emanating from the man beside him. He would attempt to appease Mink’s murderous intent but… even he doesn’t know what to do. It’s all kinds of weird to see himself do such a thing.

...Not that Ren is bad-looking or anything. Clear actually thinks that he’s kind of cute, pomeranian or not, but... Koujaku and Noiz are really getting into the kiss.

All of a sudden, they stop. Pushing each other away with shocked expressions as if they’d just realized whose bodies they were using.

“Did you see that?” Noiz asks urgently.

“I… was in the tattoo parlor,” Koujaku mumbles, sounding woozy, breathless but all the more certain of his words. “I… I was talking to Mink -- no, Ren and then…”

Noiz sharply turns his face towards their spectators. “I saw us from that vantage point. Exactly where my body is standing.”

“What are you talking about?” Mink demands, brows furrowed at the confusing exchange.

Clear watches Noiz and Koujaku share a look, then…

“Get Ren and Aoba in here,” Noiz commands. “I think I know how we’ll reverse this.”


	11. Last Call

Everyone is gathered at the bar lounge now as Clear appears to be explaining something. Mizuki tries to read his lips but to no avail; he refuses to let his eyes wander away from the screen in any case. What if that mirage filters back? He has his Coil ready to record proof that the woman who sold him the potion _does_ exist and that he wasn’t making things up just to mess with his friends.

The group separates into pairs -- Koujaku and Mink, Noiz and Aoba, Ren and Clear. The last member has one gloved hand up with three fingers raised, one by one he drops them and when there’s none left, Mizuki’s eyes bug out of their sockets. His whole body stiffens, finger digging into his Coil’s record button.

Mink has his hands on Koujaku’s cheeks and vice-versa and Mizuki is really hoping that all these years of roughing it out in street brawls is finally catching up to him because he is _not_ seeing what he thinks he’s seeing right now. Mink and Koujaku. _Mink and Koujaku_ are k - kk -- ki -- Mizuki can’t do this.

Forcing his eyes away from the pair, he finds Aoba turned away from Ren and throwing himself into Noiz’ arms instead. Ren, on the other hand, has his arms wrapped around Clear’s waist, faces angled towards each other. Clear’s hands fist into Ren’s shirt, pulling him closer and Mizuki hopes to the gods that that isn’t tongue he’s seeing.

Apparently, the gods are listening. Because just as Mizuki expects things to progress into uncharted, cannot-be-bleached-out-by-psychotherapy territory, the static returns. And it’s not just a flicker this time.

Grainy bars of color card through the screen like venetian blinds until…

That flickering face seems most gleeful, those dark eyes squinting in delight. And that smile. She’s looking right at Mizuki, mouthing “Thank you” as if he had been a willing accomplice in her ploy.

But then she disappears, too, and Mizuki’s video feed is back to his friends all kissing someone they (probably) shouldn’t.

Oh, the horror. If Mizuki’s jaw goes any slacker, he’s afraid it might literally unhinge and hit the floor. Still, Mizuki keeps the record going, unable to look away, unable to shake the feeling that a big part of the answer is still missing.

That’s when the earthquake starts.

It’s brief but strong enough to shake Mizuki off his feet. By the time he gets up again, the footage shows Mink throwing Koujaku off him, both men wearing angry faces. A feeling of dread sinks in his stomach.

_Ooohhh no._

Grabbing his quick sketch of the suspect from the table, Mizuki bolts out of the room. 

* * *

“EUGH!”

Koujaku lands on his feet while Mink stumbles back. Both having pushed the other away the second that the shaking is over. Mink is giving him the stink-eye, showing exactly how much he disliked their most recent… encounter. Koujaku gags, thumping a hand on his chest, attempting to purge himself of the taste when he recognizes that hand… and that arm. His arm. Bruises and tattoos and all. He looks down and it’s his chest -- in all st ripped glory!

“I’m me!” Koujaku’s exclamation is drowned by the sound of bodies crashing to the floor.

“Ow~~~” The whine is torn from Aoba’s throat as he lifts his body from where he has fallen. He looks around and finds himself tangled up with a scowling blond on the floor. “Noiz!”

The younger man offers a grunt and a blink but nothing more.

“A-Are you Noiz?” Aoba asks, unsure if their proposed solution had worked or not.

“Are you Aoba?” Noiz returns the question, eyes narrowed.

“I…” Aoba checks himself -- blue hair, dark shirt, poofy jacket. “I AM! Holy shit. I can’t believe it worked!” He grins too wide, relief and elation making his eyes sparkle. “Noiz, you’re a genius!”

“...Yeah.” Noiz looks off to the side. There’s no mistake that he’s in his own body now, the numbness that has cloaked him all his life is back -- a safety blanket of dulled tactile senses.

“O-Oh, I’m crushing you!” Aoba flusters above him. “Give me a sec, I’ll just…”

It makes no difference whether Aoba has moved or not but Noiz is surprised to find a hand - no, _hands_ , two of them - offering to help him stand. One is Aoba’s and the other is… Mink. A second of judgment and Noiz decides _what the heck_ , allowing them to pull him up. He gets unnerved when Mink looks him over, a too-serious expression on his face. “What?”

What, indeed. Mink isn’t sure why he felt the need to check for bruises on the blond, considering it didn’t even sound like a bad fall just now but… still. He breathes easier knowing that the Rhymer isn’t harmed. Which is odd. But considering he’d been stuck in that unusual body for the better part of the morning and barely survived… yeah. It’s not Mink’s fault he’s a tad concerned. “My gum,” Mink says instead. “It’s in your robe somewhere.”

Noiz clucks his tongue, fishing out a pack of cinnamon-flavored chewing gum which answers the mystery aftertaste he’s found since returning to his body.  He looks it over, trying to act casual as he surrenders the item. It actually tastes nice so he makes a mental note to get one for himself after this fiasco blows over.

Mink huffs at the unsubtle display, then he picks out a stick, thinks about it, and takes another one. He presses those to Noiz’ palm without a word, ignoring the puzzled look sent his way. Noiz is soon distracted anyway, Koujaku has come around and is making good on his new boyfriend status. He smirks inwardly when Koujaku pulls back from kissing Noiz, complaining about tasting _cinnamon_.

Noiz cackles at Koujaku’s demise. Benishigure’s leader mutters something about finding more alcohol to gargle out the taste but Noiz pulls at the bobbles on his beanie, making Koujaku stoop to his level once more.

On the other side, Clear opens his eyes slowly to find Ren pulling away. Ren blinks at him and, at this distance, Clear’s focus is drawn to the pink flush over the apples of Ren’s cheeks. “Are you okay, Ren-san?” he asks.

“I’m…” Dark brows scrunch together as Ren purses his lips, then covers it with his mouth for good measure.

“Ren, what’s wrong?” Aoba rushes over, putting a hand on his boyfriend’s back.

“It seems like he’s reacting to the alcohol,” Clear points out.

“But he hasn’t taken any -- oh.” Aoba catches himself, remembering that Koujaku was in Ren’s body when they were drinking earlier. “Damn it.” Just as he’s about to haul Ren over to the bathroom, the man straightens up.

Squaring his shoulders, Ren shakes his head to clear away the buzzing in his skull. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Aoba pushes away Ren’s bangs, feeling cold sweat on his forehead. “I still think you should sit down for a bit… Maybe in the bathroom. Just to be safe.”

Ren attempts an assuring smile but it falls right off his face courtesy of another lurch from his stomach.

“Oh dear,” Clear worries, stepping back when the red flush on Ren’s face turns a sickly green.

“Bathroom it is!” Aoba announces, gripping Ren by the arms and forcefully steering him away.

With Ren and Aoba’s departure, Mink is finally revealed to Clear. The man appears to be busy, typing up something on his Coil. Clear guesses he’s calling Tori back now that everything is sorted.

Three soft taps on his shoulder bring Mink’s attention to the smiling face at his side.

“Is this finally Mink-san again?”

The Ribster’s tight expression eases. There’s no mistaking that kindly voice, those loving eyes. Mink nods, glad that he knows Clear well enough to anticipate that jump. The white lab coat creases as muscular arms surround the slim waist, holding the shorter man in place.

Clear’s laughter is like crystal chimes, gloved hands carding through Mink’s deadlocks as he plants a sweet kiss at the tip of his nose.

Shuffling feet signal Aoba and Ren’s return but the loud _BANG_ of the front door being forced open grabs their attention. The easy expressions fall from their faces. Clear actually falls to the ground when Mink automatically assumes an offensive pose.

“YOU.”

 

Mizuki sweats nervously, backing away and colliding with the handful of Dry Juice members behind him.

He… He was expecting Black Needle to be in chaos, bottles and chairs flying everywhere, _blood-_!!! But what he gets is… an eyeful of lovey-dovey couples. Well, not so lovey-dovey anymore with how they’re all glaring at him now.

“H-Hey~” Mizuki fronts a cheery smile. Quickly assessing the situation. Mink and Clear are at the forefront; no chance of bolting away then since they’re most likely to catch him before he even makes it to the stairs. Noiz and Koujaku wear matching expressions, narrowed eyes pinning him on the spot; it’s one thing to see them looking ready to kill the other, it’s a whole other thing to see those death glares combined. And then there’s Aoba, supporting a queasy-looking Ren, but there’s a stern protectiveness on him that’s actually the most threatening of them all. Still, Mizuki has to try not to die right there and then. “Looks like things sorted themselves out, yeah?”

“You could say that.” Aoba’s tone is testy.

“Turns out the cure for that love potion was a kiss,” Noiz pitches in, the glint in his eyes is terrifying.

“Of true love!” Clear adds, jumping to his feet. He’s the only one who seems honestly glad at the reversal.

“Wow! That’s… uh, great.” Mizuki’s smile grows, even as his cheeks protest the forcefulness of it _._ “Really great!” He repeats, ignoring that voice in his head that groans at how _terribly_ cliché it is. True love’s kiss just saved his hide and he’s going to be damn grateful for it. Mizuki takes a brave step forward and hears Mink’s knuckles pop. “So… No harm done, right?”  
Aoba defers to Ren who stands up straighter, canines showing with his smile. “No harm done,” Ren repeats. Aoba sighs but ultimately trusts the assessment. Their quick bathroom trip resulted in little more than a gassy burp so it’s safe to say that Ren is okay… for now.

“Mink?” Mizuki eyes his fellow Rib leader for agreement. After Aoba, there’s no doubt that Mink is the most dangerous one in this ragtag group. Mizuki’s confidence solidifies when he sees Noiz and Koujaku relax in their respective break-your-face stances just behind the broad ex-con. He was planning to use the CCTV recording as blackmail material against those two but he’s glad that he can save that for a later occasion. Mizuki has a feeling that Koujaku and Noiz  would remain to be particularly problematic even -- no, _especially_ since they’ve apparently officialized their relationship status.

Mink remains quiet, though, staring him down with tightly pursed lips. This last for three long seconds until, with a gruff exhale, he replies warningly, “If this happens again, you’re dead.”

The Dry Juice members behind Mizuki straighten up, fists cocked at the blatant threat to their leader but Mizuki merely waves his hand to dispel the tense air. “Of course!” he grins, gaily moving further into his shop now that everything has been cleared up. Still, his lackeys trail in after him, ever-suspicious of the group that has sequestered their boss’ workplace for the better part of the day.

With the crisis averted, Noiz calls his rabbit cubes over with a snap of his fingers. Not far from him, Koujaku is profusely apologizing to Ren as Aoba watches; the hairdresser’s hands are put together in front of him as he bows. Meanwhile, Mink has Clear’s gasmask in hand, holding it away from the albino, wearing a smug look over Clear’s pretty pout.

“Ahh, Mink-san, please give it back!” Clear pleads, plastered over the front of Mink’s shirt with one hand trying to reach the item held over his head.

“What for?” Noiz pipes in, attaching his rabbit cubes on the yukata’s obi. He casts a mildly interested look over at the pair.  “I already told you, you look fine.”

“But Noiz-san...”

“What’s that?” Aoba turns to the commotion. “Oh,” is what he first says, finally meeting pink eyes. “Wow, Clear…”

This only prompts the gloved hands to cover Clear’s face. “Ahh, no, Master~ I’m--”

A heavy sigh and Mink finally lowers the gasmask. He levels a look at the man pressed against him. “If you really want to cover up, fine… But see that no one here finds your face appalling.”

Clear grabs his gasmask nonetheless, hiding behind it with only his eyes peeking out, trying to gauge everyone else’s reaction.

Everyone is indeed looking at him now, some smiling but most of them concerned.

“What’s wrong, Clear?” one of the Dry Juice guys ask, someone that Clear has befriended during the times he was helping out at the bar.

“It’s just… my face…” Clear mumbles, gaze jumping from person to person.

“I saw your face upclose, Clear,” Ren speaks out, gentle but to-the-point. “I find nothing wrong with your features.”

“Yeah,” Koujaku agrees. “You’re even kind of cute~”

A quick cough from nearby makes the grin on Koujaku’s face fall. Noiz regards him with a raised brow and Koujaku attempts to revise.

“I - I mean, you know...” Koujaku moves closer to Noiz, pacifying. “He’s not bad-looking, is what I meant… Haha...”

Noiz huffs, eyeing Koujaku from his periphery, a bit petulant but he doesn’t resist when the older man draws him close, arm wrapped around his waist.

Seeing the display makes Clear laugh. His gaze sweeps through the gathered crowd once more until it finally lands on Mink, who gives him a subtle nod. With a deep breath, Clear slowly puts the gasmask down, a still-unsure smile on his features.

“Atta boy,” Mizuki shouts, prompting everyone else to raise their voice in encouragement, bringing out a bigger smile from Clear.

As they all settle in the companionable air, Mizuki turns his back to the group to rummage through the bar counter’s stock.

“So now that everything’s good, why don’t we celebrate with a round of drinks?” he calls, just a tad devious, biting his bottom lip to refrain from snickering when he hears the good cheers stop.

Ren worriedly looks at Aoba, who turns to at Koujaku who squeezes at Noiz’ waist. Noiz eyes Mink, whose deep-etched frown is reflected on Clear’s apprehensive face.

A collective inhale comes, then “No, thank you!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry Ai couldn't resist that ending x) she's planning to get the game for Christmas so... *cough* anyway~
> 
> All in all, we cannot express our gratefulness to everyone who has read/kudos'd/commented on this fic~ We're glad to have delivered something that many people enjoyed!!
> 
> So thank you very much for this very engaging writing experience and that's a wrap~!


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